My Heart With You
by Bagilia
Summary: -/For several months he's grieved her, he's mourned her. She was his guardian angel, his beacon of hope, his life. Now without her, his life seemed incomplete, meaningless. And then suddenly she's knocking on his front door, and his entire world crumbles./- HALEB. Set somewhere in S4, after the 6th episode, takes off completely from there. UPDATED!
1. Prologue

**A/N: I'm back bitches, and I know everything**

**Hiiiii.**

**So, this is not my typical writing style (I normally don't like writing angst) but, here we are. I realize that the plotline for this story is ridiculous, and would never happen, but let's just go with it. **

**Anyways I am so totally pissed with the lack of haleb scenes right now, it's seriously annoying. I'm like, WTF Marlene?!**

**Okayy, the updates for this story will be a bit shaky. Since angst doesn't come to me that freely, it might take some time for me to update, also I'm freakishly super busy. Somehow, today I managed to find some time to put this onto paper. So, um try not to hate me.**

**Anyways, this one's for Merlyn, cause we've become such besties, what with her using my head as a drum set.**

**I'm kinda unsure about this story, so this is a test chapter. If there are an enough number of people interested in it, I'll continue it. I would have made this chapter longer, but I love leaving people on cliffhangers.**

**Okkkaaay then. Read onn**

* * *

_Waited a hundred years too see your face,_  
_And I would wait a hundred more_  
_If only to be near you,_  
_to have you and to hear you,_  
_Isn't that what time is for?_

* * *

The television was blazing in the background; notebooks were strewn all across the room. A cake of dust collected on his desk, on his laptop. How could he bring himself to open up that thing, when, his entire world had come crumbling down? When he had lost the most important thing, person in his life? How do you even move on from that? How do you wake up, every day, when you know, that the one reason you wake up for, is gone? And just like that, you're left in this dark place, alone, scared, haunted.

Caleb Rivers sat in a chair, his head resting in his hands, his elbows resting heavily on top of the mahogany surface of his desk. He finally untangled his fingers from the mess they had made in his hair, sighing. Deep circles run under his eyes and he is so damn exhausted that he could sleep for a month, a year, forever maybe. It's just that every time he closes his eyes, he has that nightmare, that same nightmare, and when he wakes up he realizes it's so much more than a nightmare.

It's reality.

He suddenly reaches into the last drawer of his desk, pulling out a single picture of her. Even though it was dog-eared at the sides,and slightly torn, Caleb still held onto it. He traces her smile with his thumb for what seems like the millionth time, while silently biting on his lip.

He used to have her photo on his desk, but after four months, he found it difficult to stare at her face and not be overcome by grief. And so it was hidden away, in the depths of his drawer along with his darkest thoughts.

Removing Hanna's photo was a step by which he attempted to show every one that he was finally moving on, because it's been seven months, and it was finally time to take his head out of the clouds.

It didn't matter in the end though, he was grief stricken, and he was sure that he couldn't move on. He'd heard the news, listened to the whispers, after all, in Rosewood, everything got out, but somehow it didn't make a difference to him, not anymore.

With the truth coming out, and everything finally coming to a stop, Caleb should have been relieved, not only for him, but for Hanna too. But how did it matter, anyway? She wasn't there, she was gone and it was their entire fault.

Caleb raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, willing the budding headache to subside.

He trains his ears to listen to the next news segment, for what seem like the tenth time today

_"We believe that it has finally ended. The people responsible for the murders of Detective Wilden and Alison DiLaurentis are finally in our custody. The names of the key witnesses will not be released until the case is closed for good. Our witnesses have been through a lot in the past several months, and even though offered a new identity, and refused, we still want to ensure their privacy….."_

Caleb stopped listening at this point; he's heard it all before, and the speculation. He had heard the town's gossip about who the key witnesses were, he had heard familiar names, like Melissa Hastings. He's heard the very same lines being reported, day after day, night after night and the only emotion it managed to stir inside him was a surge of self-directed anger at his inability to shut the damn thing off.

The whole uncovering of the past week had swallowed him into a black hole he never hoped to return into again. He could almost picture, how she would react, if she was still alive. Like she was next to him, curled up into a ball, crying silently into the crook of his neck, wanting him to hold her close.

Justice didn't matter to him anymore, all he wanted was revenge. They were the reason she was dead, that _they were dead_. But somehow, justice didn't seem to numb that dull ache he's had in his chest for the past seven months. He wasn't sure what could. It was no good.

Alcohol had provided temporary foster home, dulling the ache in his chest for a few hours, but somehow, it always came back, no matter how much scotch he poured down his throat. Everyone shot him such looks of pity, that after sometime, Caleb couldn't bring himself to look into the public's eyes anymore.

He needed to move on; God, he needed it like his next breath. He had been living a shadowed life for so many months now, that he had nearly forgotten how to be himself anymore.

Maybe a trip would help him, maybe he should just move to Montecito, no TV, no radio, nothing. Just him and his thoughts. He wondered what it would feel like to be cut off from the harsh reality of his life, that he had lost her.

Forever.

He remembered the look in Ashley Marin's eyes the first time he had met her after that horrible day. He remembered wondering how she was managing to look so calm, so composed, when it was obvious that her world was now shattered, into billions of pieces.

For several months he's grieved her, he's mourned her. For several months he's tried to learn how to breathe without her.

She was his guardian angel, his beacon of hope, his life. Now without her, his life seemed incomplete, meaningless.

How is it that she managed to have such an effect on him? He owed her everything. If it wasn't for her, he would still be sleeping on bus benches, and would never have met his dad, let alone his mom.

His mother. His saviour for the past few months, she was always there for him. Whether it was when he was depressed or drunk, she never said anything. She was the rock he could lean on. Despite the obvious flaws in their relationship, his mother was always there for him and especially in the past few months had offered her son more words of wisdom than anyone, ever.

Caleb sighs again, silently reminded that he needs to move on, he needs to be there. He takes the switch in haste and turns off the TV.  
He looks back at the picture, one final time before he puts back into the drawer. He tries not to lose his mind, as he stares at the picture. As if memorizing the way she looked, Caleb stared contently at the picture in utter silence. Closing his eyes, he was lost in his thoughts, lost in his grief, lost in his needs.

Opening his mouth, his voice hoarse, he whispered,  
"I miss you."

He gives it a minute, almost waiting for her to respond, before it hits him all over again, that he's never going to hear her voice, her laugh, let alone feel her touch, or her smell.

He shoves the picture back in his desk, making up his mind that he wasn't allowed to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the day. Although he knows that he's going to break it, and he's soon going to be back where he is, he can't help but dream.

A knock on his door, ever so quiet, pulls him from his thoughts. He entertains the thought of not bothering to rise to go open the door, because really, there is no one to expect. Everyone has learned to leave him alone, discovering that he's much more pleasurable company over the phone these days. Still, even despite just his pajama bottoms hanging loosely from his hips, with hair unkempt and jaw not even shaven, Caleb rises to his feet and lets them carry him to his door, because, some things never change and in spite of everything that's happened, Caleb Rivers is still a curious man.

There it is again, that soft, almost uncertain knock. Suddenly an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of Caleb's stomach, but before he's got any time to analyze the feeling, he's already at the door and opening it wide open to his apparently shy visitor.

And there she is. And his world starts wildly spinning, and then abruptly stops and crashes. Because, there she is, standing outside his front door, with two cups of coffee in hand.

Hanna stopped short as she saw Caleb, or rather the state of him. His brown eyes, once filled with love and kindness, were now cold and hard. His face was emotionless, his eyes looking at her, as if it can't be true. Her posture crumbles a little, and her bottom lip starts trembling, as he simply keeps on staring at her.

Finally breaking their silence, she shakily says,

"Hey Caleb."

* * *

_I sailed a thousand ships in search of you_  
_traveled to distant land,_  
_I dove for sunken gold,_  
_I took what I could hold,_  
_But you're still the greatest treasure I've held in my hand._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like coffee, so if you don't mind, leave me a full fat mocha latte, with extra foam? Maybe a Tyler on top ;)**

**XOXO**  
**Bagilia.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, this A/N is IMPORTANT. After a certain point…**

**#****EmotionalLandslideAllMyOTPsAreEndingTylersleavingS andrasleavingNoMorePLLNoMoreGreys. FML.**

** Hey guys :) Fifteen reviews on one single chapter, I'm astounded! This actually wouldn't have been up by today, but you guys are just so amazing :)))) Okay, my face hurts :/**

**CalebAndHannaForever- Don't worry, you're not stupid, it's supposed to be that way, and read on to find out! I can't wait to see how you're gonna feel about this one!**

**Jazzy21212121, all the guests, I think you'll be very surprised by this chapter. **

**ShadowsOnTheMoon- your wish is my command ;)**

**Prettylittleserieslover & prettylittlehaleblover- I'm glad you guys like this!**

**Tyshleyhaleblova- There are exactly two stories on here that have made me cry! **

**Ayoungnovelist- Please breathe :) It's here :)**

**Okay, this is the IMPORTANT part, Since I'm such a tease, This story**** DOES NOT PICK UP FROM WHERE IT STOPS. IT FLASHES BACK 7 MONTHS****, WHEN Hanna, um, died. I would write these few chapters in italics, but then, how would I write the flashbacks in the flashbacks :? So, It takes place directly after S4 E06!**

**Special shoutout to coldplaysout, for being ever so patient, It's here!**

* * *

_All the lonely people  
Where do they all come from?  
All the lonely people  
Where do they all belong?_

_-Eleanor Rigby, The Beatles._

* * *

"Ca-aleb, Let go!" Hanna whined, trying to squirm out of his grip.

"No." Caleb replied simply, holding her ever so tightly. He never wanted to let go, not now, not ever.

"Spencer needs me!"

"I need you." Caleb whispered, his head resting against her, caressing her face. Go, he had been so worried about her, having her back, was a blessing. He never wanted to let go again. He wanted to stay with her, right now, cuddled together, in his bed.

"I'll come back." Hanna sighed, relaxing against his grip, "I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes." Hanna smiled, amazed at what an effect she had on him. Leaning closer, she rested her lips against his, feeling the entire world melt away. "I promise."

Sighing, Caleb loosened his grip, immediately craving her when she got up.

"Do you need me come with you?"

Hanna smiled, "No, its fine, I'll be fine. You should just get back to sleep."

Giving into her demands, Caleb bit on his lip, "Fine."

* * *

"Spence?" Hanna called, letting herself into the Hastings house. Two cups of coffee in hand, she closed the door, her back to the unfolding scene in front of her.

Turning around, Hanna almost dropped the coffee cups. She caught the sight of Emily, Spencer and Aria sitting on the couch. She looked around, finding the room filled with their families. And Detective Holbrook.

"What's going on?" She questioned, her eyes wandering around.

"Mom?" Hanna looked at her, a guilty feeling settling in her stomach, was this about A? Had they found something?

Ashley looked at her daughter, "I think you should sit down." She broke the silence.

Hanna made her way to the couch, sitting next to Spencer. "What's going on?"

"They know." Spencer answered; her voice hoarse.

"What do you mean?"

"They know about Red Coat."

Stopping them from any further interaction, Officer Holbrook took charge.

"Now that Hanna's here, we should get started."

* * *

"We want to find A, or Red Coat, or whoever, but you girls always seem to be in the middle of it all." Officer Holbrook looked into their eyes, watched as the flicked from each other, to him, and then to the people surrounding them.

Holbrook paused, he was sure that the next part would bring outrage from them; he tried to put it as delicately as possible,

"We think that, if you girls weren't in the middle of all this, and were unknown to A, or maybe if you didnt exist to her anymore, that together, we might be able to find her"

Spencer quickly processed his words in her mind. Puzzled, she looked towards her mom,

"What does he mean?"

Veronica took a sharp intake of breath,

"He means, Sweetie that you have to fake your death."

* * *

"We can't just fake our deaths" Spencer seethed, speaking for all of them, "We won't."

"You didn't hear me out" Officer Holbrook replied, pausing for a second.

"You have two options. Option one is that each of you fake your deaths, and help us find A, after it's all over, we'll give you new identities, new passports, everything."

"And option two?" Hanna whispered,

"You do the same, except that for new identities, you resume your lives, come back to Rosewood."

"And what if we choose to do nothing?" Aria asked nervously.

"That's not an option." Officer Holbrook said, matter-of-factedly. "You have to choose one of the two, if you don't, who knows, you might end up like Alison."

Hanna took a sharp intake of breath. Judging from the faces around her, she highly doubted that any of them had a choice. Her mind is completely blurred, and she zones out, not hearing what they're saying.

Suddenly a mention of Caleb's name brings her back to reality, and she realizes, that he's in danger too, and if she was dead, he wouldn't be anymore.

_But, she would be dead. _

Seeking a silent confirmation from the rest of her friend, Spencer almost read their minds, her voice shaky, she softly spoke,

"Option two. We choose option two."

Officer Holbrook studied their face, each of them refusing to take their eyes off of him.

"Okay." He said, "But it has to happen today."

"Today?" Hanna's stomach sank even further, Caleb.

"Yes, it has to be today, we have everything ready." Holbrook suddenly reminded them of a condition,

"One condition, ladies, Nobody can know about this."

"Nobody?" Hanna's stomach sank even further. Caleb, god…..Caleb.

"Other than everybody in this room, I'm afraid nobody can know about this."

"Nobody." Spencer whispers, awaiting confirmation. She reaches for Hanna's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

"Nobody."

* * *

Hanna stood outside her house. They had given her fifteen minutes, a mere fifteen minutes to pack up her life, before she disappears. Her mother is inconsolable, and Hanna can't blame her, she would be too, if she wasn't in such shock. A surly agent stands by her side, waiting to escort her.

She still can't believe it, her entire life is going to be shattered in less than an hour. And the one guy she needs right now, she can't see, she cant bury herself into his arms, give him a long tender goodbye, tell him what was happening.

She can only hope that, seven months later, he's still here, and she knows, all she needs is to in his arms, and everything would be okay.

She can't imagine her life without him.

Standing in her room, Hanna feels the tears starting to flow. She can't do this. And in less than an hour she's going to be dead. Quickly composing herself, Hanna rummages through her room, grabbing what she cares about the most. She takes her clothes, her shoes, her make up kit, a couple of notebooks, her phone charger.

She thinks she's done, when she sees the picture of the two of them hanging on the wall. Quickly throwing that into her duffel bag, Hanna wiped her tears away. She would be back, she couldn't act like this.

She had to believe that she would some back.

It's half past one when she realizes she never showed up for his place. Caleb must be worried sick. They took her phone, took out the battery; it must go straight to voicemail. She prays he stays strong, prays their night together isn't as imprinted on his mind and soul and heart as much as it is on her own.

She looks around her place again, wonders if there is anything more she wants to take with her. Her eyes fall on the two suitcases. So this is all her life now, she's a ghost with two suitcases. She wants to cry. Or scream, or smash something. She does neither. She bends over to lift the suitcases from the ground and glares at the agent who appears at her side attempting to help her with the baggage. Her look is so dangerous and full of misplaced malice that it makes him physically step away. "I'm done. We can go," she barks out curtly.

* * *

It's around 5 pm when she's brought to the safe house. A plain, near empty room with a simple desk and a chair, one bed. No personal items. Figures. The two suitcases that come to represent her life lie at her feet. There is a small bathroom to her left, a window at the far side of the room.

She is finally left alone, the agents telling her they'll bring her some food later. Now she can rest for a couple of hours. She sits down on the bed, feeling the fight leave her at last, being replaced by despair and utter loneliness. Only yesterday, she thought her life had no meaning, no direction. But damn, in comparison, yesterday her life was a picnic.

She cannot help but wonder. Is she dead yet?

The thought sends her reeling. It's the last push she needs to stumble over the edge.

She lets her back fall on the bed, leaves her tears to run freely. She hugs herself, shivers. The bruises flare to life and she aches, inside out. She is emotionally raw; it's the only word that comes to her mind to really accurately describe how she feels, and she doesn't know how to channel her thoughts not to run in crazy circles in her head.

She buries her nose in her shirt and that's when she smells it, the faintest, softest echo of Caleb's scent. She's still in the clothes from the morning; there was no time whatsoever to change. She is suddenly glad she didn't dispose of them; they feel like the very last link to her living life now.

Today, lying on top of her new scratchy bedspread, all Hanna can think about is how stupid she's been for taking time for granted. But there's no way she can rectify that now, no way whatsoever. She feels completely helpless.

It still feels so surreal, so bizarre; but as of today, Hanna Marin is dead to the world. Her heart bursts with grief.

* * *

_I'm in here, can anybody see me?  
Can anybody help?  
I'm in here, a prisoner of history  
Can anybody help?_

_Can't you hear my call?  
Are you coming to get me now?  
I've been waiting for you to come rescue me  
I need you to hold  
All of the sadness I cannot, living inside of me_

_-I'm in Here. Sia._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like pancakes on a Monday morning, they make my day so much more better. And so far, I've been having the suckiest day.**

**Msalv- I didn't forget you, I didn't want to say this in the beginning cause it would spoil everything, but stupid theory, huh? LOL, Glad you're back too :) **


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, your reviews were amazing. Like literally. I'm all teary, :) **

**All of you guys are so amazing, so, so, so amazing! Even, the darling IDontKnow. **

**Guys, this story is strictly HALEB, so if you don't like, don't read! You don't need to read and then flame me! Clear?**

**Although, I do accept constructive Ccrtitism on my writing, not on my ship! **

**K, again THIS CHAPTER FLASHES BACK 7 MONTHS AND IS A CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTER. **

* * *

_Baby I have been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you.  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_-Hallelujah. Leonard Cohen._

* * *

He doesn't remember much from the past three days. It's all been a blur, a one giant, horrible, morbid blur. It's been a dark hole that's swallowed him into a world of darkness, where there's no light, no hope, no faith. _No love._

Three days ago, he held her in his arms, kissed her, smelt her, _loved her._ And now, he's standing alone, and it's like everything's crumbling beneath him.

_His entire world crumbles without her._

He can't imagine living without her. He can't imagine anything without her. He needs her in his life so much. She's an integrated part. They became one, a hybrid in the time they were together. She was his life. He can't go on without her. It's unimaginable.

He remembers that day so clearly, it's haunted him, scared him for life.

She had left him in his apartment with a promise of a soonish return that would be followed by the delicious lunch of his making. They didn't set an hour, but by 1, when the pasta was already cool on the stove, he had picked up his phone to call her at last, even if it made him look all impatient and clingy.

He knew there wasn't something quite right the moment his call went straight to voicemail. He tried her number again with the same result. Third time wasn't the charm either. He was a little edgy, but he forced himself to smile for being so overly dramatic.

But it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.

By four in the afternoon, and after 10 more calls, Caleb stopped playing the cool boyfriend and was halfway out his front door on his way to her apartment in order to check on her. After all, she did have a psychotic come homicidal stalker. He was just taking his coat from the closet, his keys dangling from his fingers, when his phone rang and he nearly sagged with relief. Finally! But it was not Hanna's name flashing on the screen but quickly recognizes it as Ashley Marin. Hearing her voice, Caleb could feel his heart shattering, his soul breaking.

A fire apparently, at Spencer's. There were no survivors.

He doesn't remember much after that. He thinks he might have sunken to the ground, right in front of his door, letting the darkness consume him, that hopefully he would wake up on his bed, and see her curled up next to him.

* * *

The next three days are as if he is walking under water. He refuses to believe the news at first, of course he doesn't. He somehow manages to overcome the initial shock and makes himself on his way to The Hastings house, because he simply has to see with his own eyes.

The sight welcomes him with sickening feeling, broken windows, blackened walls. He isn't let inside but is met with a red-eyed Ashley and Tom at the yellow tape. Ashley seems to be hit the hardest, but just as he is about to tell her that this is all just one giant misunderstanding, that there must be another, simpler explanation to all of this, she holds out a shaky hand to him. Air rushes from his lungs when he recognizes the single blackened yet still glimmering object hanging from a singed chain from her hand. His heart stops because he's seen it, seen her put it on just that very morning, he could still make out the small angel of a pendant hanging on.

He recognises it at once as the chain given to her by Jamie, and his heart stops. All hell breaks loose inside of him. He is under the impression he let out a howl, like a wounded animal, at the sight of the angel; but again, he's not sure.

The next morning, he is once again in denial, especially since his sheets still hold her distinctive smell. He calls Ashley again, asks him for details. His hopes are definitely crushed when he's informed that there is DNA proof now. He throws the phone away as he blindly stumbles to his bathroom to vomit violently. The shock is slowly creeping up on him; the news just really starts to sink in.

He doesn't leave his bed that day, or the day after. He has to the next one however, because that's the day of her funeral.

He stands in front of his closet, wet from his first shower in days and feels lost. Utterly lost.

Standing in front of his closet, he can't help but remember the numerous times she had picked out clothes for him, tied his tie, and scrunched up her eyebrows disapprovingly.

* * *

The day is sickeningly bright and warm, the grass so familiarly green Caleb feels the urge to flee the scene. He doesn't want to see the inside of a sunny cemetery ever again. He doesn't want to bury the love of his life.

He wears heavy dark glasses, and he stands in the back simply because he can't stomach being that close to the casket. It still feels surreal; he cannot wrap his head around it. He hardly hears a word of the eulogy, all that he can think about is how it doesn't make any sense. Why her?

A tight icy knot forms in his gut that afternoon and he never manages to lose it again. He's really lost her. She's not coming back.

People come by, condole him as well, pretending to understand, but they didn't understand. No one knew what she meant to him, what he hoped he meant to her.

If he had had convinced her into letting him go with her, there was a small glimmer of hope that she would be alive. Caleb blamed himself for not stepping up. He blamed himself for losing her. _He blamed himself for her death._

Ashley Marin is the last to stop at his side, tries to talk to him, but Caleb finds he can't look her in the eye. He has killed her daughter.

He wants so badly to say something to Ashley, try to console her on what must be the worst day of her life, because here stands a woman who's been robbed of everything in her life. Yet Caleb cannot find the words, and he feels like he failed Hanna on a whole new level.

Ashley leaves and it's only days after that Caleb realizes he hasn't said a single word to the woman. Truth is, Caleb doesn't talk much at all these days.

* * *

A few weeks go by in a blur, his mother keeping him constant company, trying to cheer him up. He starts to eat again, smiles, even grabs a few hours of sleep at night. He starts to become a master at pretending life's returning to normal when nothing ever felt so wrong before.

He had it all within reach only to have it snatched from the tips of his fingers so crudely.

He's lost her, He's lost Hanna. God, it hurts to even say her name. He wants her back so bad, so so bad. It's all he asks for, all he prays for.

He pictured his entire life with her, planned it. The white picket fence, their children, their wedding, their honeymoon, everything, and now its gone. It's an empty space. He can't imagine it.

If he knew that the last time he was with her, would have been the last time, he would have made the most of it. He would have hugged her, kissed her, memorized everything about her.

He's just lost the love of his life. No matter how hard he tries to keep his face, to pretend that everything's okay, he can't. At the end of the day, he can't help but breakdown, because, he faces the harsh reality,

He's just lost the love of his life.

* * *

_The storm is coming but I don't mind_  
_People are dying, I close my blinds_

_All that I know is I'm breathing now_

_I want to change the world_  
_Instead I sleep_  
_I want to believe in more than you and me_

_But all that I know is I'm breathing_  
_All I can do is keep breathing_  
_All we can do is keep breathing now_

_-Keep Breathing. Ingrid Michelson._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like sunshine on a rainy day, and where I am, it's raining like shit :)**

**XOXO**

**Bagilia**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey :) **

**So, only six reviews? That's a fall from twelve :/ I get that everybody has a life, but that's like cut down by half! So, c'mon guys! How bout this, if I get twelve reviews, I promise to update super super fast. And super fast updates lead to a faster haleb reunion! So, C'mon GUYS! We can do this!**

**Ayoungnovelist-Like the rain? Not possible, you should see this rain….  
Sarah- Uhhhhhhh. You might wanna wait for a while…. Okay, this chapter is Sad Hanna. Please don't kill me!  
Pllstorylover-Thankyou :) Faster updates coming, promise! And ummm, not yet, I love being a tease.  
MERLYNNN. HIII :) are you kidding, I love this weather! I really love how cold my toes get at night. -,-  
Msalv- Sobbing?! Aww, you made my day :)  
Treaanne- You and me both girl, you and me both.  
Tinkerbell88-I'm flattered! Thank you :)**

**Okay, and also, I am officially a Beta Reader! I really thought that more haleb beta-er's might lead to more stories, so, really, c'mon guys, we gotta do something bout the story count! :) So, as a beta, I will help you! You just gotta ask!**

**Okay, again, CHAPTER FLASHES BACK 7 MONTHS, blah blah blah.**

* * *

_Wake me up when it's all over,  
When I'm wiser and I'm older,  
All this time I was finding myself,  
And I, I didn't know I was lost. _

_-Wake Me Up! Avicii._

* * *

They tell her how eventually. She needs to know, how she died, how it was delivered to the people she cared about, when her funeral is going to take place.

She is not in Rosewood anymore, but she is not out of state. She is allowed to watch TV, listen to the Radio. She has, albeit a very restricted and monitored, access to the internet.

She Googles herself. She sees the news articles, sees the headlines screaming: "Four Girls killed in tragic accident."

So she obviously went out without a fight. Spencer's house was burned to the floor, four bodies discovered inside the house, hers and the girls. Charred beyond recognition. DNA doesn't lie though, at least, that's what the public (and the people she cares about) is supposed to believe. There is no doubt whatsoever, the bodies belong to Hanna Marin and her three best friends.

No other people were hurt, yet Hanna cannot shake the words stating there were four burned bodies found at the scene. She is sick to only think who those bodies belonged to. The police tell her it's all been just fabricated, but she isn't naïve.

She almost wants to laugh, rather than cry. Fires do seem to be her thing right now.

They asked her, when they had snatched her, asked her if there was something she could provide that would make the body look more like her. She knew they were asking for a personalized item, maybe a tattoo, a special birthmark they could plant onto the body or directly into her autopsy report. A lot of pressure was put on her to make her death as believable as possible. Especially in the face of her family and friends, they couldn't afford any lingering doubts and no digging; they needed instant acceptance. She knew what they were asking for and she knew there was one thing that would make even Caleb beyond convinced the body's been hers. It made her giving up the angel on its golden chain that much harder.

And so Hanna Marin dies and life goes on even without her. She works with the police, tries to work as quickly as possible, yet still, on some days there is very little to do. They wait on some evidence or other specific testimonies, or they're trying to unearth some files. Those days are the toughest on Hanna, for they appear like days wasted.

She is dead to the world, dead to Caleb. Gone, irreversibly, being mourned, grieved. It will hurt but it will pass. And then they'll go on with their lives, start the natural process of healing. She wonders how much that will take, hopes she will be back before the reality of her death really starts to sink in. She is - for the millionth time - glad at least her mother was allowed to know. She doesn't want to think what would happen to her if she wouldn't.

The first week is the toughest. She works with the agents and the girls during the day, trying to reconstruct everything that happened. What Alison was doing, where, and how? Then late at night, when the agents and the girls finally leave for the day and she is left with only a handful of the agents staying behind for security reasons, the house suddenly becomes too quiet and she spends her evenings either rereading her books, going over her meager rescued photos collection or simply crying herself to sleep.

She knows who A is. She finally has a name, something she craved for so long. But it's not enough, it's not nearly enough, not even close. She has a name but otherwise she has nothing and no one. And they were all so right, oh so very right. It doesn't mean anything when you are alone to celebrate it. Although, technically, she wasn't alone, she still felt alone. Empty. Like nothing could lift the darkness that was shrouding over her body.

She hangs to her weekly phone calls with her mother like to a lifeline, the only light on her horizon.

Weeks go by, has it been a month already? A whole month that she's been dead. One whole month. She isn't allowed out of the house, not even the backyard. It makes her sick and edgy.

She calls her mother every Sunday evening, six to seven. In her fifth week (God, she just wants to go home already), her mother opens on a sentence that makes her heart sink in her chest yet flutter with the faintest hint of hope at the same time.

"Caleb called me last Thursday."

It's a huge opener, for neither has seen or heard of the man since the funeral. And even then, they didn't talk about it much. She remembers that awkward question she never thought to ask in her life:

_"So, how was my funeral?"_

_Her mother's answer hasn't been a good one, yet she already expected that much. "It's been…bad, Hanna. Just, …bad."_

_She had to gulp the fist that already formed in her throat in order to continue, offer something, anything, in means of some sort of compensation. "I'm sorry mom. I'm sorry that I made it so hard on you."_

_There was silence at the other end of the line. "It's not me you should be worried about," she said, and despite Hanna knowing she didn't mean to accuse, she still heard it. It stung and she closed her eyes to the mental images assaulting her brain._

_"How did he handle it?" she forced out at last._

_"How do you think?"_

_She let the comment pass. "Did you two talk?"_

_Her mother's voice faltered. "He wasn't…he wasn't really in a state to talk." The statement made her double over. She sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping heavily under her frame, under the painful weight of her conscience._

_"He had his mother with him though. She seemed to offer a great deal of comfort," her mother offered quietly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she silently listened. God it was so morbid, so bizarre, but she wanted to hear it all, no matter how masochistic in made her, she wanted it all. So she kept on listening, hoping her mother would take the hint and elaborate._

_"Your friends from school came, too. Naomi, Sean, Mona too." She heaved a dry sob. "They were…God Hanna, I cannot even begin to describe how they were, I was barely coherent myself…just the thought…," she stopped then, her own voice breaking._

_"I know. And I am so sorry," she repeated lamely, "I am here though, I'm alive and well. And it's not for long, I promise mom, when I come back, we'll go away, the both of us, I'll make it up to you, I promise," she offered and it sounded lame even to her own ears. She could hear her sight of a response. They kept quiet for a moment, her mother trying to breathe through whatever her mind was guiding her to, she on the verge of tears again._

_"He brought flowers for you," his mother uttered and she froze, knowing at that precise moment that she'd heard way more than she ever should have. "The most beautiful bouquet of blue forget-me-nots."_

_The phone nearly slipped from her grasp. Why, why would she torture her like that? _

_She had to stop her, had to stop her now. She's been so stupid to even start the topic, why did she even ask? What was wrong with her? Did she get some secret thrill out of listening to how the people she loved missed her? How she ruined their lives?_

_"Mom, listen, I gotta go," her tone was curt and tight. She could barely keep her tears at bay. Maybe she should be really dead, maybe she deserved to be after willingly subduing the people she loved to this._

_"Hanna," she started, sensing her anguish, "I'm sorry, I though you wanted to -…"_

_"No Mom, no, don't you apologize. I did want to know, I just…listen, they are calling me…and I gotta go." she lied, "I'll talk to you in a week, 'kay?" she didn't wait for her answer, she just hung up. It took all her willpower not to smash the phone into the nearest wall. _

Ever since that first call after the funeral, whenever she talked to her mom, she asked if she heard from Caleb. But her mother's answer's always been the same; "not since the funeral Hanna, no". That was until today.

* * *

She works tirelessly every day since the phone call. The thought of him seems to drive her into a black hole, even further than she already was. Secretly, she can feel herself spiralling down, nothing to save her. No one to save her.

She starts working with Holbrook, later in the night than anyone. There's a dull ache in heart that won't leave her. Nothing helped. As much as she liked to imagine work did, it didn't.

Nothing could help her. Except him. All she wanted was him. All she needed was him. Nothing else. She didn't give a fuck about anything else, she just wanted him. His smell, his laugh. His smile, his arms. His shirts. His lips, his soft hair. His soft touch, everything.

All that's left are her dreams now. That is, if she could dream.

* * *

It's a late Tuesday night, and Hanna's sitting with Holbrook, sheets sprawled across the table. She's supposed to be narrating to him how A did something, but for some reason, the only thing, only person that's on her mind is Caleb.

Just thinking about him, sends her back into her memories, reminiscing about the two of them. She can't help but feel the tears welling up into her eyes. She missed him, she missed her mom, she missed school. She missed everything. All she wanted was to go back home and run into his arms, hold him tight and never let him go. She wanted to feel his lips against hers again, feel that tingle down her spine the moment he touched her.

"Hanna?" Holbrook snaps her out of her daydream. "C'mon Hanna."

"What?" Hanna asks, confused.

"You can't keep zoning out like this, you have to pull yourself together."

Hanna scoffed. As if he even knew what he was talking about. He didn't even begin to understand how she was feeling right now.

Holbrook sighed. Moving closer to her, he placed a hand over hers, before looking into her tear filled eyes. She looked so innocent, so scared

"Look, I know it's hard. But it's only for a while Hanna. You're going to go back soon."

Hanna lifted her eyes off the table and stared into his eyes. Suddenly, she found his face close to hers. Less than an inch away. She found herself staring into his eyes, before slowing shifting her gaze towards his lips.

Without even thinking, Hanna leaned forward, crashing her lips onto his.

* * *

_Lately I been, I been losing sleep_  
_Dreaming about the things that we could be_  
_Baby I been, I been prayin' hard_  
_Said no more counting dollars_  
_We'll be, we'll be counting stars_

_Take that money_  
_Watch it burn_  
_Sink in the river_  
_The lessons I learned_

_Everything that kills me makes me feel alive_

_-Counting Stars. One Republic._

* * *

**A/N: Please don't hate me!**

**Reviews are what all writers want, no matter what the cool ones are saying nowadays. Again, 12, and a super-fast update!**

**Okay, so basically, I've come across a couple of amazing stories on here, which I think are worth checking out. I'm not even going to mention the haleb ones, cause I'm sure, you all read every single one on here, like me, but there are a few others.  
Firstly, I've gotten hooked on "Enemies Of The Heir, Beware- A" By RunawayBaby555. It has some haleb in it…and Caleb in a house elf costume. Nuff said. Plus, it's a PLL/HP crossover!  
Then there's "The Real Thing" By Recovering4life. It's mainly Jaria, but is AMAZING! Also, Haleb.  
Also, Iridescence by ShadowsOnTheMoon. It's Spoby AU, but so intriguing!**

**K that's it.  
Review, and favorite. And follow!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: ACK, ACK. Okay, two huge milestones to celebrate! First, 51 reviews! Half a century!Actually, more! Also, I crossed a 1,000 views! LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! **

**Again, same thing 12 reviews, and a super fast update!**

**So to reply to all of your reviews would just take so much of time, so, let me just say, **

**WOW. You guys did not like Hanna/Holbrook. Let me just say that that was a speculation off a Wetpaint post :P Also, thanks guys. YOU MADE MY DAY!**

**Okay, again, CHAPTER FLASHES BACK 7 MONTHS, you know the rest.**

**Also, from the next chapter onwards FLASHABACKS START. YOU GUYS NEED TO TELL ME WHICH SCENE YOU WANT! Kay?**

* * *

_So close no matter how far  
Couldn't be much more from the heart  
Forever trusting who we are  
And nothing else matters_

_-Nothing Else Matters. Metallica._

* * *

Caleb decides to crawl out of his hole a little, be a decent person for a couple of hours and not wallow in his own grief. Because there are other people hurting over Hanna's loss, maybe even more so than him. People Hanna would want him to look after.

He hasn't seen nor talked to anybody from the school since the funeral, and he still can't face them, not with so many shared memories of Hanna. Yet there is one person he could, and definitely should, call. That night, Caleb picks up the phone and calls Ashley Marin.

They meet in a diner the next day for lunch. The meeting is …awkward to say the least. But Caleb leaves with a slightly lighter heart, seeing for himself that Ashley seems to be doing - the circumstances considering - very well.

Truth to be told, Caleb has been a little scared what he might encounter; he isn't naïve after all. He was more than a little anxious of what to think, how to act. He wasn't sure of what to say, what to do. Seeing Ashley doing so well, he felt slightly liberated.

That day, Caleb makes a mental promise to make sure it stays that way. Two weeks later, he makes the same call to Ashley, asks her on another brunch. By their third meeting in another two weeks, it becomes sort of an unspoken routine for the two.

There aren't many topics at first, so they stick to the classics. Weather, sports, food. Later, they switch to family, Caleb's mother, Ashley's memories of Hanna, although that topic is breached only on particularly optimistic or particularly bad days. They never talk about that day. They avoid the topic as much as they can, as it still hurts Caleb's heart to remember that horrific day.

His mother offers a surprisingly steady rock for his existence. She is there for him on a daily basis. She literally glues him back together. She takes care of him on the days when he shuns the outsides of his bedroom; brings him out of his depression - even by his ear, if she has to; force-feeds him food; plans his daily schedule he isn't willing to stick to. She forces him out the loft, walks with him in the park with their arms intertwined, chatting to him animatedly although she knows he's lost in his own thoughts. It helps.

There are things she does for him he is not particularly proud of. She wordlessly wipes away sick still sticking to his mouth after his occasional hot date with a bottle of bourbon, hides the evidence of his weight-loss by silently restocking his closet with new shirts and pants. Envelopes him in her arms wordlessly, deliberately oblivious of the dampness in his eyes as she strokes his hair in a manner that reminds him of being a little boy again.

She does it all, and on top of it, with a flare and grace. She is being the mother he always dreamed she was, only now he realizes he'd never needed her to be, not until now. He really doesn't know how he would have survived without her help the first few weeks. She saved him.

Time flies, and soon it's more than a month. He still can't deal. His mother suggests going to see her grave, get some closure. However, Caleb dismisses it without even a seconds thought. He can't see her- not like that. Not today, anyways.

* * *

It's two days later, and its pouring rain, and Caleb finds himself standing over her grave, fingering her tombstone, the rain masking the endless flow of tears down his face. He slowly reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a single white envelope. He wrote her a letter. He wrote her a fucking letter. He almost wants to laugh. It makes him sound so sappy, so tragic. But he can't help it. He is. He's beyond broken. He breaks down even further, letting out small whimpers, until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He quickly wipes away his tears, and then turns around to face, none other than Ashley Marin. He can't face her, he looks down at the single white envelope, slightly dampened by his tears and the rain. His voice is hoarse when he utters,

"I wrote her a letter." He finally lifts his eyes up to her gaze. The rain seems to have stopped by now, and Ashley can clearly see the tears welling up in his eyes.

All the warmth is immediately gone from Ashley's eyes, surprise and something akin to dreadful comprehension clouding her eyes. "I'm so sorry Caleb," she whispers, trying to catch one of Caleb's hands, but he pulls them quickly, brings one to his face to hastily wipe at his eyes.

He shakes his head. He really doesn't need this woman's apologies. Not when he was the one to let Hanna out of his door and sight that day. He never thought he would tell this to anybody, her mother out of all people, but once that door's been opened, Caleb cannot find the force to slam it back shut. "She said she was just going to see Spencer," he half-shouts in a trembling voice full of incomprehension and despair. "See, she got a text from Spencer, telling her to come over." He explains. This memory is still way too fresh, maybe because he feels so damn guilty about it every single day. "She wasn't supposed to be long, she promised to be back by lunch." Caleb looks at his hands nervously twitching, tries to breathe, tries to quell the awful flutter of his heart in his chest, the tight pressure on his ribcage.

"I offered to go with her but she declined…" a tear falls from his eye, but he doesn't seem to notice, "I should have gone with her, I should have gone…" his voice breaks and he looks at Ashley then, helplessness and guilt and challenge to blame him for all of this, mixed in her eyes.

"Caleb", Ashley starts, but obviously doesn't know how to continue, what to say. But that's alright, because there really is nothing to be said. Ashley shifts nervously, Caleb thinks she's about to leave, but then she merely stretches out so she can get a hold of Caleb's hands, dragging them back towards her with her own.

"Listen to me Caleb," she squeezed Caleb's hands, her own eyes suddenly glassy yet voice firmly determined. There is a message she needs to pass along to Caleb, for her daughter's sake. "Whether you had or hadn't gone with her that day, it probably wouldn't change a thing."

"You don't know that," Caleb utters desolately.

In fact, Ashley knows, but she can hardly tell the man currently breaking into pieces in front of her. She shakes her head. "What happened to Hanna wasn't your fault, it wasn't anybody's"

Castle's still not convinced. He put her in the crosshairs. He is to blame.

"Listen Caleb," presses Ashley, still holding his hands, suddenly looking impatient and aggravated. "I think, no, I actually know for a fact my daughter would never want you to blame yourself for this, alright?" Caleb drops his gaze.

"With all due respect Mrs. Marin, neither you nor me know what she'd have wanted, because she is not here." His voice doesn't hold any hostility, just tired resignation. Ashley lets go of him then, runs a frustrated hand through her hair. She looks restless, angry even. There is not much more to be said. After a while, Caleb breaks the silence.

"Thank you," he says, some of his composure returning, the blame he so carefully hides locked up tight inside of him again. Ashley looks at him curiously.

"I needed this."

"No, thank you Caleb. You have no idea…" she stops abruptly, obviously agitated, "Gosh I wish I could…" she stops again, shaking her head in fury, chewing on her lip as she ponders about something, hard. The gesture reminds Caleb of Hanna. He doesn't know what brought this sudden outburst, but he is glad Ashley's finally shown at least some sign that she is too, going through the grieving process. Because her rather calm and understanding attitude started to unsettle Caleb a great deal more.

Caleb stares down at the letter in front of him. He sighs. "I wrote her a letter." He repeats softly.

Ashley's suddenly hit by a brainwave. "Can I have it?"

"What?"

"Can I have the letter?"

Caleb raises an eyebrow, but knows better than to question her motives. She already knows how much he loves her daughter. He holds the envelope out to her, his messy handwriting on the cover, simply stating, 'Hanna.'

"Here."

She grabs the letter, cradles it tightly to her chest.

"You hang in there tight Caleb, alright?" She lowers her head to catch the younger man's eyes. "I promise you, it won't be like this forever."

Caleb wants to believe her, so badly. But right now, the wound is still too fresh and there are certain types of wounds Caleb doesn't believe even time will be able to heal. Still, he gives her a nod, out of respect and because he sees how much she is trying. And suddenly Caleb knows, he just knows, that Ashley is doing this for her daughter, the same way Castle keeps an eye on her too. What they share in not just the loss of Hanna, a beloved person, daughter and lover, but the will to hang on and protect what was so dear to her.

Ashley clears her throat, offering a hand to Caleb. When he takes it, Ashley yanks at it with surprising strength, enveloping Caleb in a sudden hug. "Hang in there, Caleb! She always had you for a fighter. You better not go letting her down now."

With those words hanging in the air, Caleb watches Ashley Marin walk away.

And he wishes he could too.

* * *

_here comes the rain again_  
_falling from the stars_  
_drenched in my pain again_  
_becoming who we are_

_as my memory rests_  
_but never forgets what I lost_  
_wake me up when September ends_

_-Wake Me Up When September Ends. Green Day._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like Benedict Cumberbatch's cheekbones, so GORGEOUSLY AMAZING! (Yes, I'm a CumberBitch, and I'M FUCKING PROUD OF IT!)**

******Again, 12 reviews and a super fast update!**

**Remember, Tell me what scene you want as a flashback in the reviews! **

**Next chapter…..Hanna & Holbrook, don't you guys wanna see what happens super fast? 12 reviews, C'mon guys!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	6. Chapter 5

** A/N: Hello, MY GREAT, AMAZING, GORGOEUS REVIEWERS/READERS! Honestly, you guys are awesome. So awesome, that I'm going to reply to each and everyone of you amazing people out there! Offer still stands, 12 reviews & super – fast update!**

**Ayoungnovelist- Stop it, I'm blushing! And let's see what you think of this…  
Sarah- Are you the Sarah I see over at "Enemies of the heir, Beware –A"? Nways, thank you for your kind, brilliant words. Yes! You will see what was in that letter. I'm not such a tease now, am I? Maybe, with Spencer, they could speed up the process…** **Yes! This very chapter features some special, adorable TEAM SPANNA!  
ninjagojay246- Awww. Was this fast enough for you?  
AL3110- Aww, I'm glad you did!  
hufflepuffhaleb- You and me both, you and me both. Although I am Slytherin, I love a few hugs!  
Haleblover13- Um….Okay, maybe I'm a tease…  
halebistruelove- Haha, yes, you will see Hanna & the letter.  
CalebAndHannaForver- Trust me girl, I did not like writing that even ONE BIT! And um, haleb…..well….lets just wait. And yes! You will see what Caleb writes. But, you will not see Ashley's reaction, you will see Hanna's! Not in this chapter though..  
Msalv- Hi! You will definitely see what was in the letter. More importantly, so will Hanna :)  
Gaahh- LOL, I love the name! And really, stop it! I'm blushing!  
Treaanne- Well, the letter really seems to be the topic of conversation! Yes, you will see it. And as for Holbrook, read on…**

**You may notice that I haven't replied to the LOVELY guests! But I address that issue below!**

* * *

_When the light's turning down, they don't know what they heard  
Strike the match, play it loud, giving love to the world  
We'll be raising our hands, shining up to the sky  
'Cause we got the fire, fire, fire  
Yeah we got the fire, fire, fire_

_-Burn. Ellie Goulding._

* * *

Hanna sighed as she stared at the ceiling. She was such a fool. Such. A. Fucking. Fool. What was wrong with her? More importantly, what was she even thinking? She was in love with Caleb, for Christ's sake! She couldn't go around kissing random strangers, just because she was depressed.

Tossing and turning for the past hour, Hanna had spent the past hour and a half replaying what she had done. Finally tired from her own thoughts, Hanna reached out for the landline on the table next to her. Hesitatingly, she dialed the one number of the person she knew who could comfort her right now.

She had almost given up hope, thinking that she's knocked out, when,

"Hello?"

"Spencer! Hey." Hanna half-whispers, turning to her side. Her voice is so full of remorse and sadness, that Spencer immediately becomes concerned,

"Are you okay?"

Hanna chokes back a sob, "No."

"What's wrong?" Spencer sits up on her bed.

"Everything." Hanna pauses for a second, "I miss him Spence. I miss him so much, it hurts."

Spencer sighs, "I know."

"How are you okay with this?" Hanna sighed

"With what?"

"This. Us, dead. I thought I was Spence- but, I just- I-

"Just wanna go home." Spencer finished for her.

"Yeah." Hanna almost laughs. Even in the most miserable times, Spencer always knows what she's thinking.

"You know, if they find out about this, they're gonna kill us." Spencer whispers. She's pretty sure those agents stay up the entire night.

"I know." Hanna mumbles.

Spencer can still make out that she's holding something back. "Hanna, what did you do?"

"Something stupid." Hanna bit down on her lip.

"What?"

"I kissed him."

"Who? Holbrook?"

"Yeah." Hanna replied, her voice suddenly soft.

"Why?" Spencer gives her a chance to explain before letting loose,

"Because Spence."

"Because what?"

"I don't know. I was sad, and I was lonely, and he was there!"

"He was there?"

"You know what I mean." Hanna said, snarkily.

"Well?"

"What?" Hanna went blank.

"What happened?"

"Nothing else."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. I just, I – I asked him to leave."

"Are you going to tell him anything?"

"I don't know." Hanna twirled the telephone cord.

"What about Caleb?"

Hanna blinked as the tears rolled down her cheeks. God, all she wanted a break. All she wanted was him. Somehow, when she was with Caleb, the entire world managed to disappear. She doesn't deserve him, she could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. But God she is keeping him. If there is a single chance for them left, she will take it and make the absolute best of it, she'll make it count. Because that's what they've always been about, beating the odds. She aches for him, but she knows she's hurt him so much, so badly, that she might never get him back.

"Hanna?" Spencer's scared that she hung up. "Hanna, are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"You really can't live without him, can you?"

Hanna doesn't miss a beat when she answers, "No, I can't."

"Does he know that?"

Hanna takes a minute. "I think so."

"Then he'll be there."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because, he's in love with you, Hanns."

"You think so? Because I need him Spence. I can't, do this without him. I need him, to even breathe, God, he makes everything so easy. He makes me melt, Spencer. I need him Spence. I need him to survive this."

Sometimes during her speech the tears start to fall again and Hanna wonders where the hell they keep coming from, she should be completely depleted of them by now. She somehow manages to talk even through them while Spencer, listens quietly as she lets her friend talk. After Hanna's done, and all that can be heard are her occasional hiccups, Spencer opens her mouth.

But then suddenly she's at a lost. What is she supposed to say right now, when her friend is obviously hurting? When she feels the exact same.

"I'm so sorry sweetie. But everything's gonna be okay."

Hanna suddenly composes herself. All she wants to do is curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out.

"Listen, Spence. I gotta go." Hanna doesn't wait for her confirmation, she flings her phone down. She breaks down. Utterly and completely.

She cries, and her heart bursts into a million pieces with her grief.

* * *

_"Please?" Hanna begged._

_"No." Caleb exclaimed, smirking._

_"Please?" Hanna pleaded, moving herself, such that she ended up straddling him. Her face inches away from his, she whispered, "Pretty please."_

_Caleb smiled. Pulling closer, if possible, he brought her lips down against his. Her lips tasting of cherry, he flicked at her bottom lip, trying to pursue further into her mouth. His arms trailed up and down her back before landing firmly on her hips. _

_Before it could get too far, Hanna pulled away. "Please?" She whispered, resting her forehead against his. _

_Caleb crinkled his nose, "It's in pretty bad shape."_

_"Toby saw you the other day." Hanna giggled. "Please, I've always wanted to go on a motorcycle"_

_Caleb finally gave in, "Okay."_

_"Really?" Hanna's face lit up._

_"Really." Caleb paused. "But first.." Caleb slipped his hands under her shirt, bringing her closer to him._

* * *

"Hanna?"

Hanna woke in a tangle of sheets and sweat, her hair scratchy at her neck, her mouth dry. She lies still, wondered if she will have to run for the bathroom to be sick. Sometimes she does. She carefully breathes in through her nose and out her mouth, deliberately blanking her mind, forcing back the dreams.

It was around mid-day. She had spent the entire morning dreaming about her and Caleb. She sat up straight at the sound of a voice from outside.

"Just a second!" Hanna tried to sound enthusiastic, but failed. Walking to her door, she opened it, finding herself face to face with Holbrook.

"Hi." Hanna said softly.

"Hey." Holbrook answered. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure." Hanna answered, moving aside to let him in.

Holbrook walked in, stopping near the table. He turned around as to face Hanna. "I wanted to talk to you." He paused "….About last night."

"Oh. Right." Hanna said. "Last night." She struggled to form her next words,

"Last night was a mistake."

Holbrook appeared completely emotionless. "Oh."

"I know that I kissed you, but, I – I can't. I can't. I have a boyfriend, and, I – I just can't." she nervously waited for his reaction.

Holbrook sighed. "I see." He made his way towards the door. There was nothing more to be said really. Except,

"He's a lucky guy. Your boyfriend."

He leaves, and Hanna abruptly sits down hard on the edge of her bed, her shirt crumpled . The realization hits her again that Caleb is gone, that she'll really never see him again. It is as incomprehensible and unbearable as it was the first time. And the second, and the third, and the tenth, and the two-hundred-and-twenty-seventh. It will never be okay. She will never be okay.

Suddenly she remembers Spencer's words from the previous night, "Everything's going to be okay."

What a stupid thing to say. Hanna lowers herself further onto her bed on unsteady legs, thinking only of breathing, in and out.

It's completely stupid.

Nothing will ever, ever be all right.

Ever

* * *

_Where were you  
When everything was falling apart?  
All my days  
Were spent by the telephone  
That never rang  
And all I needed was a call  
That never came  
To the corner of First and Amistad_

_- You Found Me. The Fray._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like puppies, they make me happy :) **

**Okay again, 12 reviews & super fast update!**

**Okay, so I really couldn't reply to most of the guests, as they didn't have a name. So I have a teensy tiny request, could you guys leave a name? It could be anything, a letter, a haleb reference, anything! It's just for me :)**

**I know this chapter was short but, YOU GUYS NEED TO TELL ME WHAT SCENE YOU WANT AS A FLASHBACK!**

**Again, 12 reviews & super fast update. **

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know, I suck. But, my school has been such a bitch lately, I couldn't find any time. I know, I suck. **

**This time, let's put a twist on it, shall we? If I reach 100 reviews, which is 14 more, I will update so fast, that you won't know what hit you!**

**LoneGypsy- Okay, I'm like super happy right now! I can't believe you liked it! Don't worry there is more of the Hanna/Holbrook angle coming up ;)  
AL3110- Thanks for the review & suggestions!  
Sarah- I knew you were familiar! Hi :) Oh sweetie, Holbrook/Hanna? This was just the beginning. ;) Thanks for the suggestions! TEAM SPANNA FTW!  
Pllstorylover- Hold on tight sweetie, This story is about to kick into overdrive, and then HALEB!  
tvfreak13- Heyyoo! Yes you have been away too long! No delicious M rated stories :'(, *hint* *hint* But I am so glad you liked this! You're literally like god to me, and to know that you liked this, Aw Shucks. And please if my writing is amazing, then yours is just out of this world! Your Haleb feels? Imagine mine while writing this! I really hope you enjoy this one! XOXO.  
Gaahh- Okay, I just had to show this to RunawayBaby555, LOOOLLL. OMG, we were laughing for like hours. And as she rightly said, #HalebShipperProbs! Hang on tight girl! Juicy stuff coming up, EVERYWHERE!  
Msalv- well, now, that would just be pointless without the smut, right? And so far, I can't write smut. We just want our sexy haleb.  
prettyhaleblover- Haha, the letter? Coming right up!  
Haleb5forever1105- You and me both!  
Treaanne- Trust me, Holbrook? He's not done! As for the other girls, I'll try!  
hufflepuffhaleb- Hi :) Okay, my school has been a total bitch! And I'm updating now! Better late than never, right?**

**Read on guys!**

* * *

_Settle down with me  
Cover me up  
Cuddle me in_

_Lie down with me  
And hold me in your arms_

_- Kiss me. Ed Sheeran._

* * *

_"__I think it looks fine."_

_"I don't." Hanna scrunched up her nose, adjusting her dress. Seriously, it was not fine. _

_Caleb creeped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He placed soft kisses on her neck, while murmuring, "It looks stunning."_

_Hanna sighed, before turning around to face him, "It doesn't. It makes me look fat."_

_"Does not." Caleb countered. _

_"Does too." Hanna pouted, relaxing against his arms._

_Caleb smirked at her childlike behaviour, "Hanna." He stated firmly, "You look beautiful."_

_"No, I don't." Hanna stared down at the dress, "I look fat."_

_Caleb sighed. He knew about Hanna's insecurities, and often worried why. She was drop dead fucking gorgeous, and everyone knew that, except for her. _

_"Hey," He said softly, forcing her to look up at him. "You're not fat Hanna, you're the exact opposite." He paused for a second, "And this dress doesn't make you look fat, okay?" He leaned forward, placing a small kiss on her forehead. _

_Hanna looked up into his eyes, "Would you still love me if I was fat?"_

_Caleb laughed, "Of course I will. Hanna, I love you, no matter what."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really." Caleb paused, before taking her face into her hands, _

_"You're beautiful Hanna Marin. Don't let anyone take that away from you."_

* * *

"Caleb called me last Thursday."

It's her fifth week at the safe house when her mother opens their routine Sunday evening call with this sentence. It has the effect of a silent bomb.

Five weeks of absolute silence. No message online, no call, no sighting in the paper, no official announcement. It was as if Caleb fell from the face of earth and for a little less than the past five weeks it slowly ate at her conscience.

And now her mother tells her he's called her, he's finally called, and she wants to scream at her mom to just go on but her throat is closed shut.

"Hanna? Are you still there?"

It takes a moment for her to rasp out a feeble; "Yeah mom. Still here." She doesn't go further, she can't. Hopefully, she'll take the hint.

"He sounded okay, I guess." Leave it to her mother to cut to the chase. A breath she didn't know she's been holding leaves her lungs in a rush.

"What did he want?" she asks but then amends quickly, disliking how she phrased the question. Caleb rarely asked for things. Especially in comparison to her. Caleb, was always so selfless in his needs. She never fully appreciated him, too blinded by her own issues. She wishes, now more than ever, things could have been different. "I mean, why did he call you?"

"He wanted to meet. Just to talk." There is silence, she waits for more. "I think he wanted to check up on me, see how I was doing."

Oh, Caleb.

"Did you two meet yet?"

"Yes. Yesterday, for lunch." She doesn't know why, but the answer gets her off guard. She doesn't know why she expected a different one.

"And?"

"Hanna," it's the first time her mother hesitates. It makes her cringe. "I know you wanted me to let you know if I heard of him, you were worried, I get that, but you really want to know the details?"

She knows what she's hinting at. The last time they had a conversation like this, it was about her funeral and she ended the call hanging up on her, unable to process what news she was receiving. Still, she wants to know, needs to know, what she's done to him, so she can hopefully make it right one day. She just…she needs to hear about him, know about him, in any capacity she can, even if it's the ugly part. They've barely had year together and she already misses him like they were married for years. In a way, they probably were. She screws her face at her last thought, which came out unexpectedly out of nowhere…she is just really tired.

"Yes mom," she offers quietly. "I want to hear the truth, even if it's ugly." When she's still quiet at the other end of the line, unconvinced, she adds; "I can handle it, I promise."

Her mother gives a mighty tired sigh, and she suddenly feels sorry for making her her lightening rod in all this mess. "I'm sorry," she offers, but she's already brushing her off with a sentence

"It was actually nice. Or, as nice as it could get, I guess. We had some coffee, there were silences. Mostly, he asked about me, how I was doing, if I had any plans for near future."

She conjures up the mental image, her mother and Caleb sitting in a non-descript dinner, their backs hunched over a cup of coffee, talking. She wishes she could have been there; wishes things could be different altogether. Wishes she could sit there with Caleb, as a couple, simply meeting her mother for brunch. Yeah well, the things she wishes could go differently…

. "Did he say something?" she cannot help but blurt

"No, he didn't say anything. More the way he was dancing around it like a clumsy elephant in a china shop, hinting and asking way too obvious questions." She hears the smile in her Mother's voice and notices she has one on her face too.

"Yeah," she gives a small laugh. "That sound just like Caleb."

"He cared about you, Hanna," her mother utters and the past tense she uses makes her heart stop in her chest for a moment before it restarts again in an irregular, fluttering beat. Ashley must realize what she'd said for she hastens to continue, "I mean, I didn't mean it like _that_. I just, I mean…he still cares. A great deal. But it's ... it's weird Hanna. To have to think about you, talk about you, in the past tense. Sitting in a booth across a man who looks like his whole world has been snatched out from underneath his feet because he thinks you are dead."

She lets her last comment go for the moment, scared by the sudden urgency, the neediness, the despair in her mom's voice.

"You can't tell him mom, you just _can't_," she says with an urgency of her own, understanding the thoughts floating through her mother's head only too well. There is no greater wish for her at the moment but to be able to let Caleb know the truth, but she can't. It makes her feel like the bad guy, but this is for his own protection, for her mother's protection, for hers too, but that's not the important part right now. What matters is that they keep this quiet, keep her secret safe until she's allowed to be home again. Even if that means it may cost her Caleb's affection, even then. His safety is her highest priority, it has to be.

"I know Hanna, I just thought that if I-"

"NO!" she shouts, and there is no room for argument in her voice anymore. She takes a few deep breaths, gulps, tries to calm down her already frail nerves. "No mom, I am sorry, but you know you can't. Nobody can know. It would put your life in danger, put _his_ life in danger too," God, he has a family and a mother and she knows the moment her stalkers catch something is off they'll sniff around and do absolutely anything that'd be necessary to get to her through him, through her mother, and she absolutely cannot allow that, no matter how much she craves it. "It could cost me my life." She hates herself a little for playing this card on her mom but she knows it's the most effective one, the only one she'll ever listen to. She hears him take a deep breath, then sigh at the other end of the line. She sounds…old. Is that even possible, to hear something like that through the phone?

"Okay Hanna. I promise your secret is safe with me." She sounds beaten and although she feels guilty about it, it reassures her a great deal too.

"Thank you. Now tell me some more about what you two talked about."

As it turns out, their initial meeting turns into a habit. They meet once a fortnight, her mother informs her, and every week the two of them don't meet Caleb gives her a short check up call.

It pleases her on so many levels she cannot even start to count. For one, she keeps an eye on Caleb through her Mother. Two, Caleb keeps an eye on her mom. The thought warms her heart more that she'd ever be able to tell. Three, this keeps her updated, at least a little, on the lives of the people she left behind. Mostly it's not happy, but it's still news which keeps her feeling a little less like a complete stranger, like a ghost.

* * *

Before she knows it it's been already three months and they still aren't nearly finished yet. It unsettles her greatly. She gets into arguments with the agents she works with on the case as well as the ones who simply stay for protection. It's going too slow for her liking; what the hell takes them so long?

The agents start to eschew her whenever and wherever they can; she's not an easy person to be around these days. She doesn't give a damn, let them have it; for keeping her here, locked up, while everybody's lives are moving on out there. They said it would take a couple of weeks, months, tops, and still, here she is and they are nowhere near the end.

She works out more, drives her body nearly to the ground every day so she's able to get at least a couple hours of fitful sleep during the night. She loses weight, becomes all thin skin, protruding bone and tight muscle. Dark circles form under her eyes, become her constant companion. Her skin is white and translucent, looks unhealthy. No wonder, she hasn't really seen sunlight in about three months. Summer goes by in a blur and she suddenly realizes it's already September.

She's lost all of her so called puppy weight, and for some reason, all she can think about is how Caleb would react.

Her mother calls on Sunday night, asks her how she's doing. As usual, she tries to hide her growing depression. She's never going to leave this place, is she? They are keeping her here for good, creating a personal hell for her. She must have done something really awful in her previous life if karma hates her this much.

Her mother senses her gloomy mood, the way she's sensed it for the past few weeks. God knows she tried not to let on how much it gets to her, this forced solitude, but she's her mother and she could always tell.

"I am sorry it's so hard on you, Hanna," she says probably for the millionth time and she has the urge to break something. Or someone, she doesn't care. She feels like screaming, clawing her way through the walls of this prison of a room. "I've got something for you, Hanna." That gets her attention.

"Oh?"

"But I don't know how to get it to you. It's really important though. Do you think you could ask somebody to deliver it to you?" There is hope in her voice. She doesn't know what it is, this something she has for her, but she can tell it's important to her. She doesn't want to let her down.

"I can try to ask mom," she offers, though her voice holds little hope.

"That would be great, please do so. It's really, really important."

Suddenly, a cold knot fests itself in the pit of her stomach. "Mom, did something happen? Are you alright?" she asks, hyper aware as her mind finally breaks through the haze that's been meddling inside of her brain for the past weeks.

"Yeah, yeah, I am all fine and well, I promise," her Mother hastens to assure her and she hears genuineness in her voice. It reassures her and she exhales in relief. "It's really just a little something I got you and I wanted you to have it. Surely, its not asking too much from them to deliver a package, after all, you've been cooperating with them for nearly three months. I am sure they can do this small favor for you."

She finds she's nodding her head along as she speaks. She is right. She's really been playing by their letter this whole time, it's about time they did something for her. Or otherwise, she'll surely go crazy in here, taking one or two of them along with her in the process of losing her mind. "Yeah, alright," she finds herself agreeing. "I'll definitely ask them."

She can nearly hear her mother smile at the other end of the line. She surely must have detected the renewed vigor in her voice. Oh, she's good, she thinks.

"Anyway, anything else you'd like me to send to you? Something from home, maybe?"

She sinks into deep thought. All she wanted was home. Could she give her that?

"Hanna?" she prompts, snapping her out of her reverie. "Uhm, no mom, nothing I can think off." A thought hits her. "Oh, mom, one question though."

"Yeah?"

"They promised me they'd return my necklace, to you as soon as they could. Did they? Did you get it?"

"Oh yeah, a police man came by to return it to me from evidence a week after your…" she doesn't need to finish that sentence. Her death, yeah, fuck.

"Do you want it back? Shall I add it to the package?" her mother asks, drawing a logical conclusion.

"No!" she hastens to reply. She doesn't want it, not right not, not here. She doesn't even know if she ever wants to wear it. All of a sudden, the necklace comes to represent something that's holding her back from everything she's ever wanted. It's just a phase, she knows, but she doesn't want the necklace back. At least not yet. "No mom," she softens her voice a little, doesn't want her mom to get the wrong impression. "Just hold on to it for me, okay? I'll take it back once I return. Besides," she adds, a logical conclusion coming to her aid in order to support her argument, "Someone might come by and ask about it, you know. After all, it was evidence found on my body. Better it stays with you."

"Okay," her mom replies, not thoroughly convinced by her words and somewhat taken aback by her forceful reply to her inquiry. She throws a look at her watch, checks the time.

"It's nearly seven, I've gotta go," she says, and today, she actually regrets getting off the phone with her mom a great deal. She feels like talking tonight. Which is kind of strange. Not unpleasant, only strange. She's really going crazy in here. Lonely-loonily crazy. Yeah, that one's correct.

"Okay Hanna. Stay safe," her mother says, starting to wrap up the call. She already feels abandoned.

"You too mom, take care, okay?"

"I will." she says with a smile in her voice and her heart skips a beat. "Just don't forget to ask them about delivering my package for you, alright?"

"I'll do so," she says somewhat choked. With a final; "Goodnight mom," she ends the call.

She doesn't forget to ask about the package, and is actually surprised when they don't even protest much. Truth is, they are probably hoping a bit of home, whatever that is, will bring her some peace of mind and she'll stop biting their heads off for looking at her the wrong way. Either way, they let her call her mom the next night to let her know to send the package to an agent in the police station who's got nothing whatsoever with her case, who will pass it on to the agents assigned to her case. This way, it'll be less suspicious than if somebody from the agency came to pick it up directly. But hey, who knows? How often does one send non-descript packages to the Police?

She decides she doesn't care. If somebody's in on her scam, they'd have found her by now. If they should do so in the end, by following a simple package delivered from her moms, so be it. She inwardly shrugs, realizing it should probably scare her how careless she's lately become. She shortly wonders what her mother is sending her, but finds she's not even that interested. Nothing seems to move her these days.

She is wrong, oh so, so wrong.

* * *

The package arrives three days later, with his messy handwriting on the cover, she notes immediately, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She flees to her room, shortly wishing she had a key so she could lock herself up. She nearly clenches her fists in anger when she notices the envelope has been opened and closed again – somebody must have checked it first. It feels oddly violating.

As rushed as she was to get to the relative privacy of her room when she received the small rectangular envelope, she is suddenly slow. She wants to savor the moment, for she's sure now, without a doubt, what the package holds. It's a letter, that one's already clear; the shape, weight, feel of it indicating nothing else.

Oh mom. She still knows what her heart desires even without having to have it voiced. She slowly, nearly reverently opens the envelope, stares at the white sheets.

She cradles the sheets to her chest, her hands slightly shaking. She is suddenly a bit scared what she'll find inside; the letter

She tells herself she is being ridiculously cowardly, forces herself to open the sheets at last.

Her heart stops. She sees her name on the page, but her eyes and brain don't connect the words together, in the most familiar handwriting, taking up nearly the entire page.

'Hanna, …' it starts, and her hands start to tremble so badly the words are a blur. Maybe it's not the fault of her hands though, because her eyes are suddenly wet too. She tries to grasp the gesture behind it, tries to comprehend how this is possible. She is supposed to be dead, after all. Yet here she is, holding a hand-written letter to her, made by Caleb. Her heart is in her throat. Did her mother tell him? No, she knows with absolute certainty she wouldn't dare.

And yet, she just _knows_ her mother had everything to do with this. She doesn't know yet whether she is glad. She knows she wants to be, but for now, she is only thoroughly confused, the emotions she is feeling too much to handle. Like she's a person starving to death for weeks who's been served and feast and they tried to eat all at once, it's too much.

She closes the letter, presses it to her chest, forces herself to breathe as she tries to quench her sobs. She hasn't even read a word yet and she's already worked herself up so badly she's unable to continue.

She takes her time, lies on the bed, the letter still cradled to her middle. She closes her eyes, lets the feeling envelope her. For once, she lets the good one's dominate her thoughts. Caleb held this letter; his fingers skimmed its pages.

She lays there a moment or two, maybe even ten or twenty minutes, she doesn't know. She only knows that an hour ago, she had a problem with feeling much of anything, felt like she was dead inside. Now she has a hard time keeping all the emotions from bursting out, in what shape or form she doesn't even want to know.

She finally calms enough to climb high on the bed into a sitting position, her back coming to rest against the headboard, the letter perched against her bent knees. With a deep breath, she finally opens the letter anew, this time intent on reading the letter.

"Hanna." It begins.

"I can't say anything yet. I just don't know what to say. You're gone. And suddenly, it's like the entire world has disappeared with you. All I can say is that knowing you made me a better person, loving you made me a better man. I hope wherever you are, you've found your peace."

Her heart breaks into a million pieces. This time, the tears come in unbidden, huge torrents of big fat tears. She lets it all out, what she's been hiding deep inside of her heart for so long. She lets herself cry for everything she's lost and still has to lose. She cries for the man who wrote these words, a man she's been denying herself for so long it was nearly too late. A man, who was willing to spend the rest of his life with her, only to have it snatched away from him. And still, here he is, bearing his heart and soul on the pages of his letter for her, all for her.

She never felt more impotent as that day, wishing to simply be able to pick up the phone, call him and tell him absolutely everything that's been on her mind and in her heart since she left his loft that morning with a promise of a safe and early return. A promise she's broken.

She doesn't open the letter that night anymore, despite the strong urge to read his letter itself. This is enough for now.

She cries herself to sleep that night, hoping the person who's been waiting for her for so long will be willing to wait just a little bit longer.

* * *

_All of these lines across my face_  
_Tell you the story of who I am_  
_So many stories of where I've been_  
_And how I got to where I am_

_-The Story. Brandi Carlile_

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies! Everyone craves them! Remember, the moment I reach 100, an update!**

**All of your suggestions were just so amazing, and I promise, I will try to use all of them!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello lovelies! A hundred B-E-A-utiful reviews, Fanks! Great, Huge, Gigantic milestone to celebrate, so I'm just going to give you a spoiler! Also, 12 & a super fast update!**

**2 more chapters till the HALEB reunion! How does that sound?**

**Ayoungnovelist- I forgot you! I can't believe I fricking forgot to mention you! But, anyways, what I wanted to say last time was that, you haven't updated Seriously Haleb in sometime now, so how bout you update, and then I will?**  
**AL3110- Wait & Watch girl.**  
**hufflepuffhaleb- Go do your homework. I'm serious.**  
**Pretty. Little. Ashwee. 11- Hiiii :) I take it that's a good OMG, right?**  
**Sarah- AWWWWWWW. Girl, you seriously know how to make my day, don't you? :') We're almost there, hold on tight!**  
**Pllstorylover- Thanks for the suggestion!**  
**Haleblover13- Thank you! I'm so glad you liked this.**  
**msalv- Whoops. Don't worry! We're almost there!**  
**tvfreak13- Aw shucks, stop it! Crying? Seriously? No. Haha, we're almost near the reunion!**  
**prettylittlehaleblover- Well, it's here!**  
**treaanne- Well, congratulations on being my 100th reviewer! Love!**

* * *

_Dress, dress me down - I don't mind. Leave me to my insides._

_I don't need this lonely skin anymore._

* * *

_The long road stretches out before them, a quick and sudden detour in their day that hasn't lessened their enjoyment. They tease and laugh, they stopped for snacks and now Caleb hums quietly, his hand on her thigh as she drives._

_He opens his window and lets in the smells of summer and the mid afternoon breeze. He watches her behind the wheel, in control and gorgeous until she rolls her eyes at him and he gives in to his need to check._

_Caleb leans, resting against Hanna's shoulder so he can look at the back seat._

_Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hanna smile, feels the brush of her knuckles over his. Slow and reassuring. "They still asleep?" She asks, her voice low and quiet just in case._

_He nods, taking in the curved fingers and tilting heads, the way they snuggle. He turns back around and smiles at Hanna, sighs happy and content, "Yeah still asleep."_

_Hanna raises herself in the seat to look in the mirror, eyes soft and her smile breaking wide, "Cute."_

_The breeze filters in cooling them enough that the heat of the sun remains pleasant, not uncomfortable or distracting. His fingers squeeze, "Who woulda thought it?" He ponders aloud, turning his hand over in her lap so they can lace their fingers together._

_"Hmm?"_

_"Us on the road..." His eyes widen and he smiles at her, full of love as she catches on._

_"Oh, the open road. So very domestic with two kids in the back..." She grins happily when he laughs, watching the trees and the fields, the cows and horses that flash past the windows, it's ridiculously story book like, beautiful and spectacular, nature at its best._

_"Fast asleep at last." Caleb yawns, covering his mouth with his hand, half wishing he could nap too, half content to enjoy the peace with her. It won't last long._

_"Yeah," Hanna agrees, "the fighting was wearing a little thin."_

_"It was all the sugar." He replies, glancing out of the window and away from her accusing gaze. "You gave them chocolate not me." He says, raising his hand in innocence when she glares at him. He doesn't have to see it to know she does, he can feel the force of it over his skin._

_"Chocolate has a calming effect on the equilibrium." She grumbles over their old argument once again, "It's been proven." She pauses, "Spencer told me."_

_Her fingers leave his, but not because she's angry. She fiddles with the music, turning it on so that low, gentle, sounds filling the car. Her hand drops back onto her leg, seeking his once more, tugging as he turns to face her._

_"Mmhmm," Caleb squeezes her thigh, laughs again, so much happiness on this unscheduled detour, "that's your excuse and you're sticking to it huh?"_

_She fights it, bites down on her lips to trap it away, but it's no use, she laughs, "Yes," she nods, "yes I am."_

_Silence spills between them, nothing but the rhythmic breathing of those in slumber and near silent music as Hanna slows down._

_"They are cute though." Caleb says quietly, almost to himself, pointing to a road sign as Hanna turns the car, nearing their destination._

_"Maybe," She says tapping the back of her hand to release her thigh, so she can pull the car to a stop, "we should have another." She grins at him, cutting the engine and removing the keys._

_She waits for a reaction, but there isn't one just a contemplative hum._

_"A girl this time." He agrees without agreeing, third time's the charm after all._

_Not that the other two aren't charming._

_"Sassy, with dark hair." His hand lifts a strand behind her ear, watching her tenderly._

_"Yep, works as a Doctor to pay the bills."_

_"Gonna be a handful."_

_"Hard to ground, even harder to argue with." Hanna opens the door and slides out, "Maybe we should wake them now."_

_"Maybe."_

_Caleb suddenly wakes up, his head nestling against Hanna's, "Morning." He mumbles, while kissing her forehead._

_"I had the strangest dream."_

* * *

The first three months fly by in a blur. The very first one is a nightmare; the following two simply pure torture as he is forced to finish school.

The next three are spend with his Mother trying to cheer him up and bring him back on his feet to resemble at least some kind of normal again. He is agonized to walk out his front door into the world, always hiding behind dark glasses these days.

He brings her flowers, every month, one bouquet for her. He never stops too long, the mere sight of the cemetery sickening him, but he cannot bear not to go visit her grave at least once in a while. Leaves start to fall and before he knows it, first snow silently floats down to cover the ground. The flowers he brings her now die way too soon, freeze to death against her chilled tombstone.

But he is doing better, they all say so and he believes them. Sometime around October, he finally persuades his mother to move out to Montecito, convinces her he is alright on his own, well enough at least so she can to finally leave the loft and start living her own life. For the most part, it's true; he can be alright on his own now. He just doesn't like company much.

It's getting colder and colder outside, a good excuse for him to stay put more often, hiding away in his loft. He spends his time reading some books, predominantly classics, runs movie marathons. Mostly old movies, nothing too serious. He's got that enough for a lifetime.

* * *

Christmas is closing in on them slowly and realizing he doesn't have a single present yet sometime around the 15th of December, Caleb panics, his heart was mostly bleeding every time he spotted a gift amongst the shelves upon shelves of seasonal goods, thinking how Hanna might like this or Hanna might like that.

It would be their first Christmas together and he is painfully aware of that. He reprimands himself for being so melodramatic; they had merely one year together. What makes him think they'd happily thrive to spend Christmas together? And yet he knows. He would just make it happen, because she was for keeps.

He feels a little guilty over Mother's gifts, he knows she likes them personal and warm. He hopes she might let it slide this year and makes a mental note to do better next year. Yeah, definitely better. Glad he has finally gifts for everyone he can think of (and one person he has no gifts for but can't stop thinking about) he slowly makes his way home feeling elated.

Twenty minutes later, he has a panic attack at one of the festively decorated shop displays when he spots a beautiful female winter coat with a matching scarf. He knows Hanna would love it; hell, Hanna would probably wear something like it by now.

He hurries home before the tears that had formed in his eyes spill. He's being completely stupid.

* * *

He meets up with Toby, Paige and the rest of them. They exchange small gifts, some stories, memories again. He misses her, so much.

He has a little more to drink that night and feels mortified the next morning when he realizes it was Toby who put him in his cab. He can only hope that whatever he was blabbering about to the man the whole time they waited for the car to arrive was just some stupid drunken nonsense.

Despite being glad he got to see his friends from the school, Caleb realizes it's been only just maybe the fourth or fifth time he's seen them since Hanna's death. He loves them all dearly and some of his best memories are connected with these people, but he finds it incredibly hard to be around them. Because just about everything about them reminds him of Hanna.

He understands now what he couldn't before. It's hanging out with people you share your loss with that makes it difficult, because most memories and good stories you have together involve the person who isn't there to share them anymore. When Caleb looks at Mona, what he sees is Hanna's best friend, always trying to bring her out of her comfort zone, making her life a little more fun. When he looks at Toby, he sees the big brother who always had Hanna's back and was always in to play along a good practical joke on him. He looks at Paige and sees the gentle smile she always had for the young girl, sees her radiant expression at her party, feels the softness of her dress and the alluring scent of her perfume when her wavy hair brushes his cheek as they danced, swaying gently to the music.

Yes, it's hard to spend time with his friends from the school these days, despite that he loves them dearly, because the most important thing they all have in common is missing from their lives; and it's way too painful to even think let alone to talk about it.

Surprisingly, it's Ashley's company that soothes and calms him the most. Ashley never asks him questions, never the usual horrible "How are you doing?" She never pokes him, demanding if he's eating or sleeping or getting better. They both know the truth, no need trying to sugarcoat it.

* * *

It's their last encounter before Christmas, the biggest feast of the season only a couple days away. Caleb has thought long and hard about his present for Ashley. He doesn't even know the woman; nothing connects them together but the surprisingly strong bond of two who lost the one woman they loved. It seems enough for Caleb to consider her nearly family. Hell, Ashley is family. She's Hanna's family and Hanna's been Caleb's, if not by law then by heart.

He buys her a bouquet of flowers and a nice set of earrings , something he's been listening Ashley rant about quite a couple of times since they started meeting. Ashley looks pleased. She doesn't have a present for Caleb and she looks momentarily a little embarrassed about that, but that's okay with Caleb. Ashley has already given him enough, although Caleb will never be able to properly express his gratitude.

In a spur of emotion towards the older woman and before he can do anything about it, Caleb's blurting out a Christmas dinner invitation. Yet, even before he has time to think about what his mother would say if he showed up with Ashley Marin at their Christmas table – though he likes to think they wouldn't mind – Ashley politely declines the offer.

She has plans of his own, she tells him quietly, her eyes never meeting Caleb's and Caleb thinks he understands. His own eyes shy away.

"Of course, I understand. Still, if you change your mind, be it today or Christmas morning, or if you just want to talk, you know where to find me. Don't hesitate to call, alright?" he offers gently then adds in an even softer tone, "Nobody should be alone this time of the year."

Ashley's eyes blur at this; pain, sadness and discomfort following in quick succession, but when she looks back at Caleb, there is this quiet determination in her eyes he's seen back all those months ago when Ashley asked him to give her that letter.

"Have a nice Christmas with your family Caleb," Ashley says, "I know that Hanna would want you to have one. She was always amazed how warm and welcoming your family could make her feel in your home. I am sure that kind of atmosphere only intensifies during feast days. So try to enjoy the holidays and the company of your mother as much as you can, alright?"

He would lie if he said he wasn't completely taken aback by what Ashley just said. He never knew Hanna talked about him with her mother, talked about his mother, about her visits to their loft. His heart aches. He still doesn't know so much about her. He'll never get to know more about her.

It's this thought that saddens him the most, lets the tight chilly knot in the pit of his stomach flare to life again.

He gulps then nods at Ashley, unable to speak. He wants Hanna back, he doesn't care how; he just wants her back with a fierceness bordering on physical pain. God, why is that so much to ask?

When they part ways in front of the diner, Ashley envelopes Caleb in an unexpected hug. Caleb is surprised to find he appreciates the gesture more than he could ever say.

* * *

The two weeks before Christmas are extremely draining and mentally challenging on him. That's when the dreams start again. He hasn't had them ever since he submitted his letter to Ashley and started on the sleeping pills, but he doesn't take them anymore, and the last days took a toll on him, pushing his mental guard down.

He wakes in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, moaning her name as he blindly reaches for her, but his bed is cold and empty. The dreams are never exactly the same yet all too familiar, always some twisted variation of the sickening truths he knows by heart, a mosaic of his every regret and horror.

He dreams of that morning, that should be their hundredth but not their last together, and he doesn't let her go this time, simply won't allow it. Still, when he turns with the mugs of coffee in his hands, she's not there anymore. He rushes out of his apartment, trying to call her on her phone but she won't pick up, the voicemail on the other end of the line filling his belly with dread. He reaches her street just in time to watch The Hastings house blown to pieces, the heat of the blast warming his face in the cool night's air. He fights his way through the rubble, blindly searching for her. He calls her name but she won't answer; he reaches the kitchen, but she isn't there. There is blood everywhere, a burned body, but somehow, he knows it's not her. The rubble is still there, the sickening smell of explosives mixed with burned flesh. They are bodies everywhere, limbless, moaning, but he's only drawn to one person. There is a woman lying on the stairs leading to her rooftop garden and he knows with absolute crippling certainty it's her. Blood pools underneath her broken body, twisted in odd shapes and angles on the stairs. He rushes forward, lifts her head with his shaking hands. Her eyes are open, unfocused, but upon his touch, she looks at him. There is a huge wound in her chest and he knows she's beyond saving. He sobs, his eyes blurring. Half her face is burned black, air full with the smell of singed hair. "Hanna," he rasps, "Hanna." She can barely move, barely speak, yet she manages a silent accusing plea; "Why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me go?" He is forced to relive as her life leaves her body, the lights going out in her eyes, a single silent tear rolling down her cheek and disappearing in her hair.

There are other dreams too. Where she gets shot, burned, killed, mutilated, gunned down, stabbed or hanged, over and over again like she's some kind of hunted animal. He is never on time, always too late to save her but never too late to watch her die. Sometimes, she's accusing, sometimes she is silent, sometimes she just kisses him; those are the better versions. And sometimes he tells her he loves her. Sometimes he wakes in the middle of the dream, sometimes he wakes after what feels like hours sitting at the side of her dead body. Sometimes the grave is already there, sometimes he has to dig it with his own hands. Sometimes her family and friends are there, sometimes he is alone. Sometimes the dreams are just dreams, sometimes way too explicit horrors and sometimes simply too close to the truth; a mere reliving of his worst memories. Sometimes he's back at her funeral and his subconscious mind supplies all the details his consciousness tried to displace from his brain. He smells the flowers and the grass, hears the music and the sobs, sees the grieving friends and the snow white coffin. These are the worst.

He starts taking the pills again, and by the time New Year rolls around he feels slightly better. New year, fresh start, that's what he tells himself. He makes a New Year's resolution; he's burying his grief for good. He takes the photo away from his desk that day, shoves it in the very bottom drawer of his desk, won't take it out for a couple of days. He actually feels better, lighter somehow.

Then, one day middle a very frosty January, he switches on the TV and all hell breaks loose again.

* * *

"_What would you do to save her?"_

"_Anything. I'll do anything."_

* * *

**A/N: Reviews/Me is my one true OTP, after haleb! Don't make me lose that too! Offer stands, 12 and an update!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys. I know. I'm horrible and didn't update. In my defence, where I am, FF was down for like TWO WHOLE DAYS!**

**Hufflepuffhaleb- Yeah. It is a huge bitch. And girl, that quote? It's been on every TV show possible, straight from Breaking Bad to Criminal Minds and Game of Thrones. You choose which one you'd like it from!  
AL3110- Whoops, I kinda forgot to mention where those lyrics/quotes are from :/ The first one is from the Narrative by the Castling, and the second one, well, that's been on a LOT of TV shows. Like Supernatural, Breaking Bad, everything. I just really love that line :) Hope this clears things up!  
Moo-Thank you!  
Sarah- Vanderjesus? Uh-oh. Well, maybe you'll be slightly more content, as the haleb flashback this time is haleb! Rejoice! Well, I don't think Caleb would believe you if you did that! And, shucks, now, it's not that good! It's just a result of a lot of overactive imagination!  
VERY INTRIGUED- Thank you! And hopefully it will help!  
LoneGypsy- Well, hopefully that gave you time to catch up!  
Pretty. Little. Ashwee. 11- Aww, thanks! That means so much to me! I'm so glad your enjoying this!  
prettylittlehaleblover-Thank you! And sorry for the long wait!  
kkk- Thank you!  
Treaanne- Hi :) That's so deep :') I guess we all feel like that.  
MERLYYNNNN- HI! Somehow, you just manage to make my day! :') THANK YOU! Made my day. Also, have you SEEN my project!  
Ayoungnovelist- I KNOW! FF was down for two whole days here! And you'll just have to wait and see!  
pllstorylover- Wait and see!  
Haleblover13- Okay, well, HALLEB FLASHBACK! Wait for it girl, wait for it!**

* * *

_It's been a long time since I came around_  
_Been a long time but I'm back in town_  
_This time I'm not leaving without you_

_You taste like whiskey when you kiss me, oh_  
_I'd give anything again to be your baby doll_  
_This time I'm not leaving without you_

_- You and I. Lady Gaga._

* * *

_Caleb held his girlfriend's hand as they slowly made their way to the skating rink in the middle of the mall. As Caleb paid for their ice skate rental, Hanna looked out at the rink with apprehension. What was she getting herself into?_

_"Here we go," Caleb told her, handing her a pair of size six and a half skates. Dropping into a chair to change into them, she removed her black boots and put on the skates. When she looked up, Caleb was waiting for her._

_"Ready?" he asked._

_"As ready as I'll ever be," she laughed._

_Stepping to the edge of the ice, she looked to her boyfriend. "I don't know about this, Caleb."_

_"Come on, Baby," he told her, taking her hand and leading her onto the ice. "You can do this."_

_She put both feet onto the ice, standing completely still. Caleb let go of her hand, moving to stand in front of her. "Now do this," he told her, shoving off on one foot and skating just a few feet. Returning to her, he smiled. "You try it."_

_Hanna nodded and slid one foot out in front of her in an attempt to echo his movements. And her feet slid out from under her. She was just about to fall flat on her backside when Caleb's strong arms encircled her waist, bringing her to safety. "I got you."_

_She smiled. "And you always will."_

_Caleb smiled and kissed her softly. "I love you, Hanna Marin."_

_"I love you, too."_

_Caleb took her hand and she tried again. This time, she was able to go a few feet without falling. Eventually, she got the hang of it. "Ready to try a run around the rink?" he asked._

_She nodded. "Sure, let's give it a try."_

_Caleb threaded his fingers through hers as they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the skating rink. When they came full circle, she turned to him with a grin. "I did it!" she exclaimed, joy evident in her voice._

_"I knew you could," he told her, smiling warmly. "How about some hot cocoa?"_

_"That sounds perfect."_

_They made their way to where they'd left their shoes. They pulled off their skates and slipped their boots back on. Caleb returned to the skates to the rental counter and they made their way to his car. They drove the few minutes to his apartment in silence._

_Back home, they changed into sweats and slippers. Hanna lounged on the sofa while Caleb made the hot cocoa, complete with marshmallows. He placed the mugs on a tray, along with spoons and extra marshmallows and carried it out to where Hanna sat flipping through channels._

_"One hot cocoa with extra marshmallows," he told her, sitting down as he handed her a mug and then picked his own up from the tray._

_"What's on?" he asked, indicating the television._

_"White Christmas."_

_Hanna leaned over and kissed him. He tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, wondering how he'd ever gotten so lucky. "What are you thinking about?" she asked._

_"I was just thinking how lucky I am to have the love of such an incredible woman," he told her._

_"I love you so much," she whispered softly._

_"And I love you."_

_With those words, she snuggled into his arms and returned her attention to the television. And that's how they spent the remainder of the day. Snuggling._

_Life couldn't get much better than that._

* * *

It's Christmas Eve. She can see the snow behind the windows of her room, watches as it falls silently to the ground. There is no work today, nothing to do. Nearly all of the agents went home already, only two stayed behind for security reasons. Because the agents have families they want to spend Christmas with too, right?

Nobody seems to care that she might also have a family she would like to spend her Christmas with. At least not by the pace they take care of things. Damn, she should have been home for months by now. It's fucking Christmas and she's still stuck here, in this prison of a room; four walls, table, chair, bed, meager possessions. Couple more books than when she came here. Still, the place looks as grim as ever.

The light outside is slowly fading, sun setting down soon. Due to the snowing, the light has been dim the whole day. Yet now it grows even darker and she simply lacks the energy to stand up and switch the light on. No reason to anyway.

She lies on the scratchy covers of her bed, bored, lonely and on the verge of tears. It's Wednesday today. Which means she won't even get her mother on the phone tomorrow. On Christmas, out of all the times of the year.

She is so tired. Tired and fed up with this whole arrangement, thinking for the millionth time that month that she should have better taken her chances with A. Then she regrets it instantly, because this is better, this is safer. If not for her then surely for Caleb, his family, her mother and their friends. If her being imprisoned here means they are at least a little bit safer with her gone, it's worth it. She knows this well although it doesn't always feel that way. The air inside her room is suffocating despite that she airs the room nearly constantly now, the place chilly and cold. She has still a difficult time breathing.

Sometimes, she doesn't know who she is anymore, is afraid she won't know how to function properly once outside the confinement of these four hated walls.

Enough. She has to do something or she'll completely disintegrate in this stupid place; her limbs turning into wood, brain into mush.

She gets up from the bed and throws herself to the floor, forcing herself to do a hundred push-ups. She switched to her back, does another hundred sit-ups, her pace frantic and desperate.

She collapses onto the ground afterwards, spent and sweaty, aching and still completely dissatisfied. There is nothing here to do and she is going crazy.

She dislikes television, everything somehow remind her of Caleb. And she already read each and every book in the whole god-forsaken place at least three times. She can go online, but the internet only keeps on reminding her how quickly life is progressing out there, without her.

She misses her mom. She misses Caleb. She misses the school . And her friends. She even misses Mona. How pathetic is that?

Tears push themselves into her eyes but she wills them away. They are no use to her.

She stands up, clicks on the switch, watching the room illuminate with light. Shedding her sweaty clothes, she decides to take a bath. Thank God this place has a tub rather than a shower. Tiny, old and rusty as it might be, it does the job.

Though no scented shampoo and certainly no candles, no scented oils and no bubbles, the water only so-so warm, she likes to submerge into the water and pretend. Pretend she is home, is somewhere else, anywhere really but here.

She takes the letter with her, of course she does. It's the only thing she's read more than three times already, she can nearly recite whole passages out of it not, yet she cannot help rereading it. It makes her feel somewhat closer to him.

Carefully laying the letter on the chair she strategically positions at the head of the bath, she lays her body into the tub, waiting as the water fills to the brim.

She opens the letter from the beginning, and she starts reading it all over again. Somewhere in the first part, Hanna sighs.

She misses him.

She lowers the letter, closes her eyes. Runs her fingers under the water, rests them on her knees. She slowly runs her digits up her thighs, imagines another time, another place, another set of hands. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, smiles a little. Oh, yes. So what if she likes to pretend a little? It's the only way of release that really helps her these days, even if only for a while. She tries not to invest into the emotional part too much though.

Later, she'll pick up her letter opening it on the part where she last left off to once again loosing herself in his word.

Hanna can read him through his words nearly as well as he can read her through her gestures, through the things she is _not_ saying. And reading between the lines now, her heart aches for him. He would always be willing to put her well-being in front of his own. And that would eventually get him killed. Not just as her plucky sidekick but as her lover too. And she would not survive that.

She doesn't deserve him, God, she really doesn't. Sometimes, she just lays in bed, thinking what it was that drew him to her, what it was that made him fall in love with her. She can't see it. She is just a damaged person with a burdening past, way too selfish and guarded to let anyone love her the way they deserve. And yet, despite knowing all of this, he was always still there. Waiting until she came to her senses, until she saw what was literally dangling in front of her eyes. It was nearly too late. Damn, it was too late. A single year doesn't build a relationship. They've got nothing. She's got nothing.

Sometimes, she wishes he'd move on and forget about her, carry on with his life and find something else to bring him joy, find someone else maybe. The next moment, she sees him with another woman in her mind, laughing, joking, smiling, kissing. And her jealousy flares to life. She is so selfish she isn't able to let him go even hypothetically, isn't willing to see him happy with anyone else. Despite that there's no person in the world who would deserve it more. She so desperately wants that for him. Only, she wants that for him with her. She isn't ready to give up on that idea just yet. She wants them to finally happen. She wants to make him happy, the same way he's been making her happy for so long. She doesn't even know if she is capable of that, if she can be that person for him, the person he needs to fulfill him. Oh but how she wants to.

God, when will she be allowed to walk out of here? She is so tired of waiting, so scared of the outcome. The longer she's here, the slimmer her chances to get him back.

She cannot understand how he did it for so long, how he was willing to live in a limbo, waiting in a single place for her to finally notice him, for the wonderful, infuriating, generous man he was. He did it for over a year, if his words are anything to come by. She is finding herself on the verge of despair and insanity not even eight months into the waiting. There is so much she has to tell him, so much she should never have waited to tell him in the first place.

Oh what she would only give for a single session with Dr. Sullivan now, to see a friendly face, listen to some unbiased, objective advice delivered with a pinch of humor and amusement at her expense. She likes that about her. How she seems to always be so at ease, how some of her problems seem to amuse her to a great extent. Makes them feel somehow smaller, less important, easier to overcome.

The water in the bath is already cold. Drawing her knees closer towards herself, Hanna buried her face down, feeling her tears breaking out. She just wanted to get out of here, she needed to see him. All she wanted was him.

Crying, Hanna begins to release all her pain, heart wrecking sobs emerging, rocking her entire body. She cries for herself, for Spencer, for Aria, for Emily. For all of them. She cries for her mom. And most importantly, she cries for him.

Hanna suddenly realizes she's been sitting in the tub, reminiscing for over an hour now, the water running cold long ago.

She sighs, gets up from the tub, dries herself in the fluffy towel, the only thing she's requested from the police a couple of weeks into her hiding. Just a simple fluffy towel, nothing too extraordinary, just something to bring her more comfort.

She lets the water drain, switches the light off, closes the bathroom door behind her. She puts on her sleep attire – she realizes only now how chilly the room's gotten – crawls under the covers with the book. Her back against the headboard, she starts to read. She liked the letter. And it was as closest to Caleb as she could get at the moment. Apart from her mother's fortnightly updates on him and his family, she had nothing.

Last time she talked with her mom, he revealed how Caleb had invited her for Christmas dinner. Even presented her mother with a Christmas gift, a set of nice earrings her mother says she's had her eyes on since like forever. She didn't know what to think of the gesture. She felt confusion, gratitude, affection, guilt, sadness and regret all at once; wrapped up in a surge of tenderness towards the man who always seemed to think about everybody else's needs but his own.

She knew her mother wanted to talk about it, wanted to know more, what it was exactly, this thing between her and Caleb, but she had barely answers for herself, let alone for her. The only thing she knew for certain by the time she supposedly died was that their cards have been finally put on the table. He told her he loved her and she loved him.

She wishes was able to tell him then yet still hopes he felt it somehow, if not from her words than at least from her actions. She has no idea what they are now to each other though. She knows she loves him still, his absence and the solitude in her life making her feelings for him more pronounces and intense than ever before. Where there wasn't certainty before there's definitely certainty now. She loves Caleb with everything she has, with all his flaws and childishness and pettiness and stubbornness. How he feels about her, or more suitably, how he'll feel once she comes back, rising from the dead, she has no idea. And it terrifies her on a whole new level. In the past couple of years, Caleb has been not always desired yet still, such a strong presence in her life. She's come to count on him, depend on him, at all times. Now it's hard to imagine that all of this could come to an end, that it might be _him_ to walk away this time.

She sometimes has these dreams that terrify her even in the morning still. In these dreams, she's finally free. She comes to his door, silently knocks. She waits, holding her breath, imagining his reaction. The door finally opens and he is there. She opens her mouth to speak, smile, but something isn't quite alright. She is looking at him but he isn't looking at her, but rather through her. She calls his name but he doesn't react, merely sticks his head out the door looking left and right, calls back over his shoulder into the loft: "There's no one here, probably just a prank," and with that readies himself to shut the door once again. She screams his name then, tries to grasp him, but she can't move, is pinned to her spot. He cannot even hear her. Because she's just a ghost.

She wakes in the middle of the night crying out his name, only to come to in the hollow, unfriendly walls of her room. Those nights, she is sure there is nothing that can make them right again.

And she just wants to go home.

* * *

_I wanna hide the truth_  
_I wanna shelter you_  
_But with the beast inside_  
_There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed_  
_We still are made of greed_  
_This is my kingdom come_  
_This is my kingdom come_

_-Demons. Imagine Dragons._

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are like candy, unhealthy, but sooo good! And who doesn't love candy?**

**12 & Update!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N – I know, I'm pathetic. Feel free to rip me apart in the reviews. But remember to leave one! A slight change. Because of my slightly busy schedule, 12 reviews and I update on alternate days!**

**Haleb5ever1105- Actually, it did come to me in a dream! xD.  
Hufflepuffhaleb- Hi :) I know, I'm evil keeping you waiting for so long, but trust me, I'm cleared up now, for another two weeks, so maybe daily updates! Did I break your haleb heart with that chapter? Aww. I'm sorry, HHAHHAHA. Actually, I love writing depressed Caleb more than Hanna. It's easier, and a lot more fun.  
Pretty. Little. Ashwee. 11- Next chapter girl, next chapter! Hang on! Almost there!  
AL3110- Yep, it's Christmas, without Hanna. Next chapter girl, next chapter!  
NicciCastillo- Thank you :) and Next chapter girl, next chapter!  
Sarah- Don't worry, I love it when people bawl about haleb. It assures me that I'm not the only one who's crazy about them out here! And stop with the compliments, I'm blushing! But seriously, you made my day! :) Thank you!  
FanFicReader- Thank you!  
ninjagojay246- Next chapter! Hold on tight!  
PLLFAN- Well, I did thanks to you :) Thank you!  
HALEBAwesomeness – You were! Thank you :)  
HalebandTyshley- You were actually 13!  
HalebLover13- Very close! Next chapter!  
Treaanne- Thank you! And I loved the latest chapter, it was so good!  
A- Well, there's my first death threat!**

* * *

_We do our very best, but sometimes it's just not good enough. We buckle our seatbelts, we wear a helmet, we stick to the lighted paths, we try to be safe. We try so hard to protect ourselves, but it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. Cause when the bad things come, they come out of nowhere. The bad things come suddenly, with no warning. But we forget that sometimes that's how the good things come too._

_-Meredith Grey. Grey's Anatomy._

* * *

She didn't expect to see him so soon. They might have told her that it could and most probably would all go down in a matter of days, so she better be prepared, but she certainly didn't expect Combs – her constant guard and a real pain in the ass – to burst through her door at seven in the morning, unannounced and completely oblivious of her privacy, as per usual, telling her that today was the day she was finally going home. She didn't even know what that meant. Only thing she knew was that she's been hoping, waiting, _craving _for the day to come for weeks, months even.

It was maybe the reason why she was surprised at the sheer force of the panic that seemed to grip her upon being told that her life in limbo was as of today officially over.

The case has been on the news for over a week now and since her presence wasn't required at court – they'd got all they needed from her, on record, approved and sealed by a judge – she was free to go.

Her very first instinct was to run out the door and never look back. The only problem was, there was nowhere to run; she had no home, no job, no life, no friends left. That's what being officially dead did to you.

She'd already packed her two suitcases she first came here with eight months ago, in fact, she'd had them packed for days now, so she just needed to add some last items before she zipped the two familiar bags closed, now slightly more bulgy than when she first came here, albeit not very much. She's got a couple more books, a few half-empty notebooks, favorite pencils and pens, some toiletries and news articles she carefully cut out from the few issues she was allowed to read regularly, nothing special really. And then there was of course the precious letters from him. The photo of Caleb that's been perched on the nightstand – one she didn't even know she possessed until she found it one night sifting through her small collection of random photos, mostly of her friends from the school – was now tucked between the letter, and in the envelope his letter came in; she's been careful not to lose it.

The paper felt already worn and thin under her fingers at the edges from the repeated strokes over the image on those nights that nightmares wouldn't let her get her rest. It was pathetic really, she knew, and it only underlined how depressed, lonely and displaced she'd felt in the course of the past few months. Still, she needed this, needed the picture as she needed her next breath, something to remind her every day of why she was doing this, reminding herself that out there was a person worth doing this all for. A person who might understand and hopefully take her back, who was all worth it and who'd luckily be the force behind her will to restart her life and begin anew from zero scratch.

Two hours later, she's being ushered into a black van – very similar to the one that brought her here in the first place. At 3 pm they are finally entering New York City. They drop her off at some non-descript subway station she's never seen before – it's Queens, they only tell her – and squeeze a small transparent plastic bag full of her previously confiscated possessions into her hands. Her phone's there, and her wallet along with her IDs and driver's license, credit cards and some cash she had when they originally snatched her. They're all intact and usable again, her phone too, they tell her. She nearly laughs at the irony when she spots her car and house keys amongst the things in the bag, but then she reminds herself there isn't really much to laugh about. She has no home, no life to return to. What about her car? She doesn't even remember where was the last place she parked it; well, it could be anywhere really, she will figure that one out later. As far as she can remember – and this she can remember pretty clearly – the last time she went home she took a cab from Caleb's place. Her stomach flips at the memory, the unfairness of it all hitting her full force. She's been robbed eight months of her life she's never going to get back, eight months that could possibly have been the best of her life. If she only could have returned for that lunch that day…well, anyway, too late for that particular train of thought, cause that ship's already sailed.

She shivers from the cold. It's mid January and it's fucking freezing. She certainly didn't pack any of her coats back in June, she didn't expect the case to take so long anyway. Now she wishes she had, wrapped in one of her most warm leather jackets and a thin scarf. Oh all her wonderful coats, how she will miss them. Restocking her closet will be a bitch. She hopes Spencer will be willing to help.

Some people that pass her by are throwing her strange looks and Hanna winces, knowing she must stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb. She looks ridiculous really, mid January in jeans and sneakers, a leather jacket and a thin scarf, two huge duffle bags at her feet and a bag of pricy possession that look like they've just been stolen in her hands. So much for flying under the radar. Well they don't need her now, so what do they care about her pretences anymore.

She winces at her thoughts, realizing how cynical she's lately become.

She finds a roll of cash in the bag too, cash she's sure wasn't there before, along with a handwritten non-descript telephone number under which the words – IN CASE OF EMERGENCY – stand written in strong and uninviting letters. She hopes she will never need to use it. And anyways, isn't _this_ kind of an emergency? She took their deal, worked for eight months with them doing their bidding, on their own conditions without much complaint and she is unceremoniously dumped to the curb with a roll of cash and no place to go. If this isn't an emergency, she doesn't know what is.

She doesn't even know where to start picking up the pieces of her previous life again. They might have promised they'd looked into her school, let the according authorities know why she dropped off the radar, how she was doing her city a service. Yet, she doesn't really trust them on. For now, all she knows is that she should move from where she is shivering on the sidewalk and go…_somewhere_.

She quickly shuffles the cash inside her jeans pocket, the rest of the items like her wallet, phone and keys she zips into her jacket.

She takes the train first, her two bags perched under the bench at her feet and her cold hands stuffed deep inside her pockets. Her breath comes out in thick white puffs and mix with the chilled air as she observes the industrial buildings disappearing quickly behind the glass when the train ventures above the ground from now and then. She changes lines and stations a couple of times until she finally starts to recognize the neighborhood somewhat, though she rarely came to visit other than by car or her bike.

There are remains of snow on the lawns of the street's houses, but the road is clear and dry. She knocks on his door, uncertain. She wasn't expecting her, is she even home? She prepares to knock again when the door finally opens, a sleepy messy head peering up at her from behind the doorstep.

"Hi, mom."

"Hanna!" Her mother releases a relieved sigh, happiness and surprise mixing on her face. She looks surprisingly good. Before she knows what's happening she's being pressed against her, enveloped by her strong arms in a fierce and bone-crushing hug. Still wrapped in her warm, protective embrace, her mother ushers her inside the house, closing the door on the chilly air behind her with her foot, still not letting her go.

It's Hanna's first hug in eight months. God, in eight months, this is the very first intimate human touch she's experienced. It brings sudden tears to her eyes. She holds on to her mother, as tightly as she dares, her face buried in the crook of her neck as she cradles her against him, ushering words of solace in her ear. "It's alright Hanna, it will all be okay."

* * *

She decides unpack for the time being. She slowly unpacks the few personal items that now represent her whole life. She's starting from scratch.

She doesn't even know how much these small insignificant things of daily use came to mean to her until she catches herself lovingly thumbing the soft fibers of her hairbrush. That must snap her out of her reverie and she forces herself to stop this craziness. It's just a freaking hairbrush, completely replaceable! She'll probably throw it out and buy a new one first chance she'll get.

With a sinking feeling to her stomach, she realizes that the real work is only starting. And it won't be about such mundane things like buying a new brush, no. There are far more important things, talks, arguments, awaiting her attention, the sooner the better. She would lie is she said she wasn't terrified. After all, it doesn't happen every day you have the opportunity to tell your loved ones you just came from the dead. Or that you were never dead that in the first place…oh, whatever. She'll need to think about a strategy.

It's after 6 pm when she finally joins her mom in the kitchen where she's preparing dinner. She looks so casual, so at ease. Her throat closes over. It's like she's never even been away, like she didn't spend the last eight months pretending her only child was dead. She wonders in awe when she became the strong one.

They eat in silence, occasionally dropping a word or two, but they were never huge talkers. Their silence however, is comfortable. Mostly when they do talk, it's about the semantics of her release and what her next course of action should involve.

But she is preoccupied throughout the whole dinner and her mother can tell.

"Go see him, Hanna," she suggests gently out of the blue when she tries and fails for the fourth time in a row to bring the spoon full of soup to her mouth. She shoots her a deer-in-the-headlights glance, doesn't want her mother to feel like she doesn't want to be here. Because she really does, oh how she does. She just….wants to be somewhere else too, and it's tearing her apart.

"Go Hanna, it's alright," her mother says soothingly, a far too knowing look on her face. "It's not like you're going anywhere, right?" she adds for reassurance, for herself or hers she doesn't know. She quickly shakes her head. Not a chance.

"Good," her mother smiles, "then go see him. After all, _he_ was the one who's spent the past eight months thinking you were dead."

Her heart drops just at the very thought as so many times before. She doesn't need to imagine what it must have been like for him for all these months, she's been there. She's made the experience first hand.

"Have you talked to him lately? Since the case went public, I mean," she asks.

"No."

For some reason, she considers this a bad sign. From what she heard from her mother, Caleb kept a tight and rather precise schedule with her mom. Lunch every fortnight, a phone call somewhere in between.

Her mom seems to be contemplating her now. "Just go easy on him Hanna, he's been through a lot. I know you have too sweetie," she adds hastily, but she doesn't seem offended by her suggestion. "I just…what I meant to say is, try not to have too high expectations. It's a lot to take in at once and he might not be as forthcoming during your first meeting as you'd like," she concludes, a wary, measured look on her face.

She knows she is just looking out for her, trying to warn her not to get her hopes up for a happy reunion; hell, she isn't expecting one either, she knows they will both hurt like hell. Still, her mother's words sting more than she'd like to admit and her vision blurs again.

_Dammit!_ When did she become so mentally unstable?

She rises from her seat, moves around the table, giving her mother a fierce hug. "Thank you mommy," she whispers in her ear, kisses her cheek as she withdraws. "For being so…understanding. Of everything. And for looking out for him. You'll never know how grateful I am for all you've done for me," she gives her mother's cheek another peck, lets her hug her a bit longer before she disentangles.

"You'll be alright?" she asks her as she stands to her full high, looking down at her, at her mother, her only remaining family. Both their eyes are slightly moist and her question is loaded with subtext.

"I will," she says in a gentle voice, underlines her words with a firm nod. She smiles.

"Will _you_?" She asks and her smile disappears.

"I don't know," she whispers truthfully. They both know it doesn't depend only on her anymore. For her own happiness, she has to ensure someone else's first. It would be futile to try to deny the fact in front of her mother, she's been there, every week on the phone, heard the lilt of despair in her voice every single time she asked about him, caught every breathless gasp when she mentioned his name.

Ashley gives her daughter an understanding nod, enveloping her slightly cool fingers in her warm hand.

"Well then, Go get him Hanna," she says. The familiar phrase she so often used with her when she was younger and was just about to venture into the world brings a smile on her face. Maybe not all is lost; maybe she is not that alone after all.

* * *

_There's an end to every storm. Once all the trees have been uprooted. Once all the houses have been ripped apart. The wind will hush, the clouds will part, the rain will stop, the sky will clear in an instant. But only then, in those quiet moments after the storm, do we learn who was strong enough to survive it._

_- Meredith Grey. Grey's Anatomy_

* * *

**A/N: For those of ya'll who don't know, I am a HUGE GA fan. And a Cristina fan, so imagine my sadness over her leaving! All my otps are falling apart!**

**Reviews are like Cristina Yang! So ridiculously AWESOME!**

**Let's make it interesting, if I get, lets see, 17? Ill update TOMORROW, with a haleb reunion! Review guys, I promise, I won't be late this time.**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is it, the part you've all been waiting for! It was so hard to write!**

**Ayoungnovlist- Aww, no worries, It's here, no matter when you read it!  
hufflepuffhaleb- I actually got 19! Well, we'll see.  
AL3110- All in due time, dear, Holbrook is coming!  
guesty1105- Thank you!  
A- Well, thank you!  
Pretty. Little. Ashwee. 11- We both need our haleb!  
LoneGypsy- That just made my entire day, you have no clue how happy I am that you're enjoying this!  
tvfreak13- Well, its here! It's come! Super intense? Read on! I can't wait for your reaction! And Grey's is like one of the best written shows I've ever seen, Nuff said.  
PLLFAN- It's here!  
Awesomeness5- AWW, I'm flattered! It's here!  
AHHH- Thany you!  
ninjagojay246- Thank you for the review! And well, I'm not going to be a tease, this is it!  
NicciCastillo- Thank you! Caleb? Well, read on!  
Sarah- totally the best mother/daughter duo, seriously! Ashley Marin would win like mom of the year or something! Yeah, Ashley knows that Hanna can't survive without Caleb. Well, I think everyone does except Marlene, otherwise he wouldn't be leaving. THE REUNION!  
tiediecrazy- I'm glad you're enjoying this! Thanks for the review!  
hopingforupdate- It's here!  
BlackBaby- Aww, shucks, stop it! Thank you!  
treaanne- Ashley is da bomb! Thanks for the review! It's reunion time!  
Haleblover13- Haha, Yeah. Thank you! I'm honoured! **

**ITS REUNION TIME!**

* * *

_Just when we think we've figured things out, the universe throws us a curve ball. So we have to improvise. We find happiness in unexpected places. We find our way back to the things that matter the most. The universe is funny that way, sometimes it just has a way of making sure we wind up exactly where we belong._

_-Meredith Grey. Grey's Anatomy_

* * *

_He opens his door and there she is and his world starts wildly spinning, then abruptly stops and crashes._

"_Hey Caleb," she says as if she's only seen him yesterday. Two cups of coffee in her slightly shaking hands, she makes an uncertain, timid impression. She looks just the same, looks like the morning he so casually kissed her goodbye to never see her again. Yet here she is, looking all natural and beautiful, and as alive as ever. She could simply be dropping by for dinner, or one of their late evening wrap-up sessions after a long day at school, she could really be just visiting for any good reason, weren't she only supposed to be dead._

_Her posture crumbles a little at the sight of him and her bottom lip starts trembling as he simply keeps on staring at her. She continues to speak though, despite being painfully aware of his state of shock. "I meant to call you first, but then I thought to hear my voice over the phone might come as an even greater shock than seeing me in person. So, here I am…" she stands there, unmoving, only shuffling from one leg to the other, completely insecure. And suddenly, Caleb realizes, she doesn't look like Hanna at all, not the Hanna he knew. Surely this can't be her, this unsure, scared little thing. He tries to wrap his head about it, tries to come up with a plausible, if wild, theory that would explain this strange event where Hanna Marin suddenly stands at his doorstep seven months after he stood with her mother over her grave, but fails miserably. There is no other way to explain this, only that with the case being all over the news, bringing back all the memories with it, he's apparently reached his breaking point. So what if he is going a little insane? Isn't everybody in this city to some capacity a little nutty?_

When he doesn't move, talk or acknowledge her in any way, her state of distress grows even further. Her eyes glass over, voice trembling to a point where it nearly breaks. "I know what it must look like to you…I mean, God…I've been gone for seven months …but it's really me, Caleb. I am here, and I'm not dead."

He stands in the doorway, thunderstruck, his mouth slightly agape; then stumbles back into his apartment, his feet tripping over each other.

It's Hanna; it's really her.

He still hasn't ruled out hallucinations, but as far as he is concerned, he will take what he can get. She slowly crosses the threshold, her feet carrying her further into the apartment uneasily, closes the door behind her silently before she turns to him again.

She steps closer and closer to him, this beautiful mirage, but he keeps backtracking until they are suddenly standing in the middle of his living room. She is only a couple feet away now and he yearns to touch her, but he knows the bubble will burst once he attempts to.

She is the one to make the first resolute move towards him, extending one of her arms holding the coffee.

"Here," she offers with a gentle smile and his fingers slowly, ever so slowly, come to hold the paper cup in a painfully familiar gesture. It's warm, so surprisingly warm, as are her fingers when he brushes them with his own once taking the cup from her.

And just like that, the spell is broken.

She doesn't disappear, oh no. She is there, solid and warm and very much alive, and it suddenly comes all crushing down on Caleb.

She is alive, Hanna is alive. He doesn't know how, or why, only knows that those past few months, that horrible everlasting nightmare, it's all been just a lie.

His body crashes down onto the dark leather couch, his posture crumbling. The coffee gets discarded somewhere onto the coffee table in front of him; he isn't sure, doesn't care. He tries to comprehend, tries to keep up. He is good at that, right? After all that he's seen over the years.

Yet this is too much even for him, Caleb Rivers, the resident bad boy.

He buries his head in his hands, shoulders hunching, forces himself to take a couple of deep breaths, for he's suddenly sick. He certainly feels the bile rise in his throat.

This simply can't be true. How? Why? God, why?

She appears to wait him out, comes to stand at his side patiently. Through the cracks in his fingers he can see her shoes. Sneakers, he notices, soaked with melted snow. Her whole attire seems far too light for the weather outside, his observant mind supplies.

He can still smell the alluring aroma of coffee, which is _their_ thing, he remembers. All the time, the two of them, together, at the brew, sharing lattes. The place where he met his father.

Ever since she died, _disappeared_ – he corrects himself, he had a hard time getting used to the flavor without the bitter aftertaste. Ever since she disappeared, he has taken his coffee black, no sugar and no milk. He tried to switch to tea anyway, just to get rid of the painful stab he got anytime he took a gulp of the dark, delicious liquid…God, why is he even thinking these things? Why indeed, when she is here, _Hanna_ is here…right here, breathing and alive and as vibrant as ever.

"It's really you," he croaks into his hands with crushing finality, his voice broken, disbelief still lacing every syllable.

Her hands come to caress his head, fingers stroking his dark hair. "It's really me Caleb," she whispers, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. Yet the gesture feels anything but soothing. It sends his already frayed nerves on edge. She's alive, has been alive for all this time and he never knew. Whatever her reasons, she leaded him on that she was dead.

"I am alive and I know it's a lot to take in," she continues in a soothing tone as if talking to a small, scared child. She continues her caresses but he suddenly flinches away, whether from her touch or words, he doesn't know. The only thing he knows is that a huge tight knot of anger, hatred and spite just unfurled – _exploded_ – inside of him and he has no power to stop it. He slaps her hand away violently, jumps to his feet.

"A lot to take in?" He shouts, ignoring her own flinch, an involuntary physical reaction to his outburst no doubt. "A lot to take in," he repeats indignantly. "Are you kidding me, Hanna?"

The force of his voice makes her take a step back, but he doesn't care. He is angry, and it's the first real emotion he's felt in months and _it feels good_! He's not letting that go.

"Listen to me, Caleb," she starts gently, holding her hands up like she was under gunpoint, "I unders-"

"Listen to you? Why, Hanna? You don't know _anything_! You come here, seven months after you supposedly died, seven months after I buried you, and you get the nerve to tell me you _understand_?" His voice is still loud, but it's starting to crack. He is still angry, but despair and helpless confusion are getting the better of him. His eyes are moist, because he is in pain, excruciating pain, all over again, because of _her_. And she is just standing there, her own eyes glistering, biting her lip in an oh so painfully familiar gesture, her hands twitching and twisting in front of her, as if she wanted to reach out to him all at once, like she's waiting for him, like there is anything he can do to make it disappear, all this pain and confusion and misunderstanding, like it's _his_ decision to make.

It all comes crashing around him now, the memories, the funeral, the burned down house…the case that's been on the news for weeks. And suddenly, amongst all the confusion, chaos and mayhem of his mind, it all suddenly starts to make sickening sense.

"Alison's case, A," he rasps out, "the secret witness…it's you. This whole time, it's been you!" he exclaims, accusingly. Her face twitches, but she gives a slight nod.

"I was snatched from Spencer's place the morning I left here," she starts slowly, as if what she has to say is as painful for her to say as it is for him to hear. Subconsciously, she makes another small step in his direction, bringing them closer again; her determined gaze, that familiar green and hazel of her eyes all shiny and vibrant only inches away from him. He doesn't close the gap, is merely regarding her now, mouth slightly agape, posture defeated. He retreats then, sinking back to the couch as if weighted down by the crushing force of it all. She can't blame him. She stays standing, sensing his need for her to keep her distance for now. It hurts but she is willing to do anything he will need of her; she owes him that much.

"It was the police," she continues, each syllable dragged out as if physically hurting her. "They told me that there was no other way." A flicker of recognition steals across Caleb's face, but it's gone in a flash. "They cornered me at Spencer's house". She can see he's still not following, still looks at her with that painful mixture of shock and denial. It stings but she continues nonetheless.

"They told me that A would catch me." She doesn't elaborate why; she can see he gets the picture when his eyes go wide. "I was given a choice, either leave them and take my chances with the line of A…" she catches herself. She has a name now, might as well use it, "…_Ezra_ would surely send my way, or disappear and cooperate with them in taking him down." She looks into his eyes then, hers beseeching him to understand. Her voice takes up on a desperate, pleading urgency he isn't used to. "I took the deal Caleb, and I knew it was a horrible choice to make, not for me, but for the people I would be leaving behind," she says, a tear sliding down her cheek and she angrily wipes at it, willing her voice not to break. "But what choice did I really have? I _had to_ Caleb, I had to take the deal." She urges on, pleads her case, voice rising in despair as she tries to get her point across.

"You could have chosen me," he replies suddenly, unexpectedly. His voice is full of quiet fury. Despite the quietness of his tone, the words boom in the silent room. "You should have chosen _me_, Hanna. I would have protected you," he says, spite filling the air around them. "But you chose A over us, _again_." When he sees her shake her head violently, ready the interrupt him, he won't let her.

The vicious anger blooms inside of him, powerful and merciless and he is powerless against it. He rises to his feet, closing the short distance between them in two quick strides until he's standing right in front of her, his finger accusingly pointed at her.

"My God, Hanna, you _did_ have a choice! And you chose the hell for us, for me, your mother, your father, my family…and anyone who ever cared about you! How could you do that? How could you, especially after what you yourself had to go through after your best friend's death, how could you have done that to us?" His voice is breaking, an angry hissing whisper, eyes moist again. But this time, he doesn't know whether it's from sadness or spite. "I mourned you, Hanna! For seven long months, I've been living with this huge hole of loneliness and pain and guilt in my heart and now you tell me it's all been for nothing, that it's all been a lie?" He takes a step back. "Just another lie," he breathes a desolate, devastating gasp, and her face crumbles, her posture slacking, hands falling to her sides helplessly. "I'm so sorry Caleb," she whispers nearly inaudibly.

He continues as if he hasn't heard her. "You've been feeding me lies for so long now, how can I even begin to dissect the truth in them?" He asks her, demanding an answer she doesn't have. She raises her hands towards him, makes a step in his direction, but he takes a step back. He cannot let her touch him, he absolutely can't.

"Seven months I've been learning, like a man drowning at the wide open sea, of how to live without you, how to let you go, how to move on, and now you tell me it's been all for nothing," he utters, and he looks so helpless, so lost, and in so much pain, it tears at her heart. "Do you have any idea what you are asking of me? Of all of us? To let you in again just like that," he flicks his fingers in frustration, "As if it didn't happen? As if we didn't go through a trauma that despite being faked had us all hurting? My God, Hanna," he repeats for the umpteenth time that night, breathes out her name, looking at her like her sees her in real light for the very first time in his life. It's not a nice look and she cannot help but avert her eyes in shame. "What the hell were you thinking?"

A tear slips down her face, but he doesn't want her tears, he wants answers. "How could you do this? How could you…if not to anybody else, than do that to your mother, of all people!"

Guilt flickers through her face, but there's something off in her features. Still, that doesn't stop him as a nauseating realization strikes him. He starts babbling, speaking his thoughts out loud, "Ashley, my God, does she know? Does she know already? We need to tell her, right now," he regards her with huge, panicked eyes.

When she doesn't move, only looks at him with that guilty, despairing look, silent tears slipping down her cheeks and sliding past her pursed lips, it all comes to him with sickening sense. He rewinds all those months and weeks ago, remembers how odd he found Ashley's behavior, how surprisingly _not_ devastated the older woman was. The taste of betrayal burns on his tongue, in his chest, like liquid acid.

"Oh my God, he knew," he bursts out disgustedly, his eyes mercilessly accusing, "Your mom was in on it from the start!"

She is still standing there, mutely crying, waiting him out, slimmer and paler than he's ever seen her, with dark circles running underneath her eyes, but still fierce and painfully beautiful. She gives a small nod and he has to look away, his need to punch something, _hard_, never greater.

"I am so sorry Caleb," she starts anew, urgent and intense, "she was the only one allowed to know. I asked…no, I _begged_ them, to let you know too, but they wouldn't allow it." She's pleading openly with him now, steps into his space again to catch his eyes, willing him to listen and try to understand her reasoning. This was not done to him purposely.

She is taken aback by the coldness she's met with. His jaw is tightly set, disgust at their scam rolling off him in powerful waves. She's never seen him so angry, so disappointed. Hurt and betrayed, in her, by her. And what's worse, she knows he has every right to feel that way but she also needs him to understand that she didn't willingly choose this impossible situation, that stupid god-forsaken case, over him, over _them_, that she had as little choice in the matter as he did.

"I am so sorry Caleb, believe me, it's my biggest regret. But trust me when I tell you I didn't want it. I was simply not-given-any-choice," she punctuates each word.

He is still and unmoving, distant and cold, despite their proximity. It scares her a little, this emotional fierceness of his, more than any crook with a gun ever could.

"Was it a lie too?" he asks at last, voice still distant as he ponders over something in his mind, and she is momentarily confused. "Our year together, I mean," he supplies. "Was it a fluke? A release of steam for you? Were you merely drawing comfort, seeking a safe refuge after what happened to you earlier, during, Ali?" He concludes with a cool tone of voice and feels a little vindictive upon seeing her face crumble into pieces in front of him. His features only harden at the sight and if she didn't know better, she'd say he looked vicious. "Did it even mean anything to you Hanna, anything at all?"

Now he aims to hurt, probably wants to provoke her into a fight, she understands as much. But God is he successful, rousing a surge of fury inside of her at his accusations. Yet there is also this nearly indistinguishable trace of self-doubt hidden in his voice that tears her heart into two, making her unable to hold his words against him. She could never have guessed how deeply he'd be wounded by her leaving.

Despite his obvious discomfort, she lays her hands on him again, grips his shoulders to steady herself against him. Her eyes close as the memories from their first night together assault her mind; tries to concentrate on the present instead. With the weight of her feelings for him rushing through her, she finally whispers, "It meant _everything_ to me, Caleb." Her warm breath hits his face in a sweet, delicate puff, but she's not finished. He deserves nothing less than to hear it all. "It was the only thing that kept me sane during those awfully long and lonely days and nights, being locked up and working that god-forsaken case. Not a night went by Caleb, not a _single_ night," she puts an emphasis on the word, squeezing his shoulders in reassurance, "that I wouldn't think about you; where you were, how you were doing, what you were doing and with whom. I couldn't help it as I kept up at night, always wondering," her face is only inches away from his now and for some reason, he cannot find it in him to move, not if his life depended on it. "I kept wondering," she repeats in a whisper, her lips dancing dangerously close to his, "what _we_ would have been doing if not for this, I wondered what _we_ could be doing, _together_, if things went as planned that morning, if I'd returned for lunch that day as I promised."

Her arms have somehow sneaked their way from his shoulders to the sides of his face, cradling his skull, her fingers stroking through his hair and behind his ears in a maddening, all too familiar manner, not enough and yet too much. "I know what I did to you Caleb," she breathes, the slight tremble in her voice nearly inaudible, "and I will never be able to take it back, to completely heal the pain my actions brought upon you, but I want to try. Please Caleb, _please_ let me at least try!" She brings her mouth to his then, cannot stop herself, a simple kiss she's been dreaming about for so long. Her lips barely manage to touch his when she's abruptly met with nothing but air, his face and whole body suddenly withdrawing. She opens her eyes in disappointment, her heart crushed beyond reason.

He slowly takes her hands from his face, lets them fall to her sides limply. His eyes are wet, moist with tears, part crazed, part confused, part completely devastated. "I don't know if I can do that, Hanna," his voice is so quiet, so unsteady, yet still so soft. He sounds utterly lost, like a small boy, not the man he is.

"You don't know how to do what?" she utters quietly, urging him gently to share his fears with her. Yet already as she asks, she feels her chest clench with dread, with panic, with loss.

"I _loved_ you Hanna," he says through his tears and all air rushes from her lungs at his words. She can't breathe all of a sudden. "I loved you, with everything I had, but you forced me to let that go, to move on." He is talking gently now, like she's now the child, like a parent trying to calm down a baby, explain why the sun has to disappear behind the horizon at the end of the day. She is still way too struck by his previous words for the warning bells to start ringing in her head at his tone.

"Loved me," she repeats in a haze, breathless. "Past tense?" it's a question she's scared to hear the answer to.

He stays silent for a moment. Then; "Well, what did you expect?" She can hear outrage and despair but also pleading in his voice, pleading for her to understand. And then there's also the slightest trace of pity. For her. For what she thought she still could have but isn't simply possible anymore.

Oh God, he's actually feeling sorry; for _her_. She needs to get out, she's gonna be sick. But Caleb beats her to this, too.

"I think you should go," he utters quietly. And if she thought her heart couldn't break any further, she's painfully mistaken. He's throwing her out.

"I'm…I'm sorry," he says, "This is just too much. I just," he shrugs his shoulders in a helpless gesture, "it's simply too much. I'm sorry Hanna, but it's too much. I…" he takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut in what appears to be a gesture of pain, "I need to think."

She nods her head, defeated. It's over then, she's nearly certain she missed her chance. He'd once loved her, but he'd already moved on. Because she made him.

Her worst fears of the past seven months just came true and it was a truth that would forever haunt her

"I'm sorry Caleb," she offers feebly once more, "For how I hurt you, for how I couldn't be what you needed me to be for you; for all of that, I am sorry." She takes a step back and he doesn't stop her. Her chest feels like it's being crushed but she keeps on walking, backtracking, until her back hits his front door.

Her mind conjures up images from another time, when her back was pressed against this very same door, his hot breath speaking promises to the skin at her neck, his fingers gently pressing against the puckering flesh of her neck, one of their many heated nights together. And with that, she knows she cannot let him go, cannot let _them_ go. This might be easier for the both of them, but it's not _right_. Because they are too good together and they've never even had a real chance.

She braces her back against the door, wills it to hold her upright as she speaks. "I am staying with my mom, and I'm not going anywhere. She pauses "And I'll be available whenever you want to talk. And I'll be waiting Caleb, I don't care how long it takes. Whenever you'll feel ready, I'll be waiting for you. The same way you've always been waiting for me. I understand it now."

He finally unglues his eyes from the carpet in his sitting room, directs his gaze at her at last. His eyes are still wet, filled with unshed tears, unfocused and full of pain.

She aches for him, but she knows he needs time. She's hurt him so much, so _badly_, she might never get him back. For now however, he needs time and space and she needs to give exactly that to him. But not before she lets the final truth slip from her mouth.

"For the past seven months," she utters quietly and he has to strain his ears to hear her, "I've been having this nagging regret of not telling you something. And I promised myself that I would tell you the first chance I got once I came back." She takes a deep breath, looks at him, seeking out that maddening blue of his eyes even through the vast space currently separating them. Some of that fog seems to have elevated from his eyes, but a lot of it still remains. She hopes he'll be able to hear her, loud and clear, even through the mist.

"So for what it's worth, Caleb," she continues, subconsciously holding her breath, her hands tightly pressed against the cool steel of his door, "I loved you too."

There is silence for a moment, then; "Past tense?" he asks, offers her words back to her. Despite the grim situation, she cracks a tiny smile.

"Present," she says, her voice suddenly strong and steady, overflowing with conviction.

"Always present."

With that, she presses the handle on his door and silently slips out of the loft, letting her fluttering heart raid inside her chest as she quietly flees his building into the darkness of the night. She's done it; she's finally told him how she truly and fully feels about him. She might have felt proud about it, if she only weren't over seven months too late.

* * *

_You didn't love her. You just didn't want to be alone. Or maybe, maybe she was good for your ego. Or maybe she made you feel better about your miserable life, but you didn't love her, because you don't destroy the person that you love._

_- Callie Torres. Grey's Anatomy._

* * *

**A/N: Please don't hate me! But hey, you seriously couldn't expect he would greet her with open arms, all lovey-dovey…Okay, so I guess you technically could expect that, but where would the drama be in that, right? **

**Since you guys were so AMAZING, and helped me reach 19 reviews, how bout we try for 20? 20 and an UPDATE TOMORROW!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey guys! Well, 181! That's 22 reviews! You guys are amazing! Okay, so let's keep it up, 20 & a daily update  
AL3110- I know, I'm mean. Haven't we already established that?  
Pretty. Little. Ashwee. 11- Ah, well, here! Updated! And yeah, it was sad.  
Sarah- Well, I loved writing that chapter too! It was amazing to write, and I was like so into it. Which is probably why it turned out to be like 4k+ words. And OOOOH, I think I might be breaking a few hearts. Well, don't kill me! Haha, I'm so happy that you loved this. And honestly? I was waiting for the A reveal to give a name! as for the rest of the girls, wait for it!  
hufflepuffhaleb- I know, it was sad!  
ninjagojay246- Well, you're welcome! Thanks for the review! You're not the only one who's upset about haleb, and girls? Wait for itt!  
A- Thank you!  
tiediecrazy- Well, that was such a nice review! Thanks for leaving one!  
DING- Thank you!  
BlackBaby- Erm you might wanna wait for a while. Things are still a bit rocky :/  
CalebAndHannaForever- Haha, thank you for the review!  
LoneGypsy- Exactly, and this story is just beginning!  
tvfreak13- Aw shucks, you're a hundred times better at writing than me! Haleb fluff? I'll try, but I've really gotten into angst….  
NicciCastillo- OOH, that must have magnified Caleb's feels. Ouch. Thanks for the review!  
treanne- That's deep girl. So deep. And I feel for them too.  
guesty1105- Thanks for the review! Updated!  
Lissie- YOU WERE! Thank you!  
Pllstorylover- Yeah, Caleb is so predictable.  
confuzzledspence- It's here! I had a terrible case of writers block :/**

* * *

_I've been in love. It's painful, pointless and overrated_

_-Damon Salvatore. The Vampire Diaries._

* * *

_"Sweetie, don't you want to wear your sneakers to school?" Hanna Marin-Rivers asked her daughter, who was trying to mime a perfect fourth position in her brand new ballet shoes, but instead looked like she was playing hokey pokey._

_Haley looked genuinely confused. "No, Mommy."_

_"Your feet are going to hurt," Hanna tried again. She had this horrible image in her head of Haley stepping down on a piece of glass in the thin-soled shoes._

_"I'm a ballerina, Mommy. Ballerinas wear ballet shoes."_

_"And tutus," Caleb threw in as he walked into his daughter's room to check on the morning's progress._

_Hanna tried to throw him a 'you're as bad as she is' look, but the way Haley's face lit up at the word and Caleb's own smile softened her slightly._

_"Can I wear my tutu, Mommy?" Haley was barely restraining herself from jumping up and down with excitement._

_"Yeah, please, Mommy?" Caleb of course lent his support to his daughter._

_How was she supposed to win against both of them?_

_"You can wear your tutu if you also wear your sneakers."_

_Haley looked at her dad for confirmation that this was the deal she wanted to take. Caleb nodded and Haley threw her arms around Hanna. "Thanks, Mommy!"_

_Okay, so maybe she didn't really lose..._

* * *

It's been three days. Three days since Caleb opened his front door and found Hanna Marin standing at his doorstep. Three days since his world has been turned upside down and he's tried to find his way out of the jumble of thoughts in his head.

Hanna is alive. God, she is alive and breathing. And she told him she loved him, openly, unashamedly, certain.

Yet it hurts, still hurts so much to even breathe her name or imagine her face. It's been tainted with pain and loss for so long, how is he supposed to overcome that? How can he go back to how the world was before? How can he turn it all back when he just barely learned to live with it upside down?

He wanted to call her, wanted to talk to her, but he doesn't know what to say, how to react. It would just hurt too much to even look at her; it'd still feel like a dream, or a nightmare, he isn't sure.

If not for the two paper cups of steaming, never touched coffee, left on his living room table, Caleb would have believed it was all just a dream.

But the two cups of coffee were still there even once his mother came home hours later finding him hiding in the darkness of his bedroom, curled under the covers and refusing to face that huge, confusing world outside.

Hanna was alive, Hanna was back, and he sent her away. He didn't know how to feel about it, didn't know much of anything that night. His mother asked him what was wrong, called him up on his hiding, inquired about the abandoned coffee cups. He told her then, told her that he saw Hanna Marin that very afternoon, apparently very much alive. Told her that her death had all been just one giant lie. Either that or he's officially going crazy.

He could tell his mother was clearly upset by his confession, looked at him like she thought his other suggestion was the one more likely. Still she pretended to stay calm, patted his cheek. "There is only one way to find out, kiddo," she said, leaving him in his room in order to retrieve her phone and came back a minute later to sit at his side.

She dialed a number, held the phone to her ear, her fingers coming to comb through her sons thick dark hair affectionately as they waited. She never looked more concerned, yet still stayed collected, for his sake, Caleb knew. He was so tired, so confused. Maybe he was really going crazy, maybe this was all just another cruel dream, a sick elaborate construct of his tired mind. Maybe his wish for her to be alive caused his mind to short circuit, conjured up an image of her coming to his doorstep, an elaborate scheme of how she could have survived.

Finally, somebody seemed to have picked up on the other end of the line, for his mother started speaking at last. "Yes hello Ashley, this is Claudia," she said into the receiver and watched Caleb's eyes go huge, his head starting to shake violently in panic and refusal, but she merely squeezed his forearm, never wavering as she continued; "I have a question for you if you don't mind. No, no it's fine. But first, let me tell you how awfully sorry I am to bother you with this, however, I am afraid I have no other choice." She listened to the other end of the line, silently bobbing her head a couple of times, "Yes, yes, dear. You see," she looked at Caleb. "Caleb here, he…" she paused for a moment, pondering about how to phrase her inquiry, "he is under the impression that your daughter is alive and that she came for a visit a couple of hours ago…" she dropped her voice in favor of what Ashley had to say, listened to the other end on the line for quite a time. "Ah, alright, I see. Well, I am really glad for you then, yes. I understand."

Not a figment of his imagination then.

Caleb couldn't help but be astounded by the dignity and calmness with which his mother appeared to take in the shocking news she was receiving. His head was still spinning. She wrapped up the call with a few pleasantries before she finally put the phone down, looking at her son.

"Oh Caleb," she pursed her lips and he was shocked to see tears in his mother's eyes. "Oh darling," she didn't say more and that was good, because there really wasn't much to say. She offered her arms and Caleb was shocked at how gladly he sunk into his mother's embrace, finding refuge in the cocoon of her arms at a time when everything around him seemed to be in shambles. She was stroking his hair, gently rocking them back and forth.

"What am I going to do?" Caleb croaked after a while into his mother's neck, his voice feeble and broken.

Claudia took a moment to think about her words, for once apparently at a loss for words. "I don't know, sweetie. What did the two of you talk about? Her mother said she got back just this morning that you were the first person she went to visit." There was a lot implied in her sentence. He didn't answer. "Ashley also said she returned back home about an hour ago, half frozen and soaked to the bone by melted snow, not in the mood to talk." More implications. Again, he didn't know how to answer that. "I take it your talk didn't go that well?" his mother asked sympathetically.

"I…She came to apologize. Explain." He croaked. "I…I sent her away." He said and felt his mother's arms squeeze around him.

"I'm so sorry Caleb." She repeated helpless. "But the question now is, can you forgive her?" his mother continued, pressing ever so quietly.

"I don't know," he moaned.

"Do you want to?" she asked again.

"I-don't-know!" He keened. "I don't know if I can, nor if I even want to. It's all just so confusing, Mother," he said, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

"Oh Caleb, darling, I am again, so sorry."

She fell silent after that, merely cradled him for God knows how long up until a point when he started to feel slightly ashamed by the fact that he was a grown man being rocked in bed by his mother. He disentangled then, looked at her sheepishly and she seemed to understand. She patted his cheek one more time, gave him a sympathetic look, sighed. "Why don't you get a couple of hours of sleep?" she suggested gently and he nodded, crawling under the covers once again.

* * *

When he woke much, much later, it was already after three am. The loft was dark, his mother long gone, sleeping in her bed in the other room, the one she had occupied for a majority of the past seven monthes. He walked to the kitchen, opened up a cabinet to take out a glass to fill with water, up to the brim. He gulped the liquid down, filled the glass again. He was suddenly extremely thirsty.

He took a paper napkin from another cupboard, ran it over his sweaty face. He felt like he was running a fever but it was probably just the elevated heating in the loft and the fact that he spent the last couple of hours holed under a pile of covers and pillows, willing them to protect him from the outside world. Though maybe, Caleb thought, it was really just the shock of the news he received today, playing on his already frayed nerves. Because she was alive. Hanna was alive and he still couldn't wrap his head around it.

His heart thrummed painfully, his chest swelling to a point when it felt like he was suffocating. He opened the bin to throw away the damp napkin and that's when he saw them; the two cups of untouched coffee. His mother must have thrown them away when she was tidying up earlier. His stomach churned and he suddenly felt sick.

He barely made it to the sink heaving violently, the water he just drank mixed with the acid of his stomach coming right back up. He gripped the counter for support, the news just really starting to sink in. Hanna was alive; God, she was never dead in the first place. She had lied, faked her death in order to solve her mother's murder for good. And now she was back, wanting him to take her back.

But he didn't know how to feel about that, God, he didn't even know how to feel about her being alive yet. It was probably a horrible thought to have, but it was all he could think and everything was so damn confusing. Only this morning she's been still dead to him, to the world. And only a couple of hours later, she's been knocking on his door, very much alive. It didn't make any sense.

He was tired, sick and devastated. He should probably be happy, glad, exhilarated to see her. But all he could think about is how he fought to stay above the water for the past eight months while it has all been for nothing. She had lied to him, to them all, she didn't care enough about him, _them_, to let them know. She had wanted him to think she was dead and now he didn't know how to undo those feelings anymore. It all felt so surreal, so bizarre. Maybe he needed to sleep on it, look onto it with fresh eyes in the morning, in daylight. Maybe then it would not appear like a nightmare, or a desperate wish. So Caleb returned to his room and forced himself to sleep.

* * *

But the next morning felt still as frustrating and confusing as the day before. He had to reassure himself that yesterday had really happened, secretly opening the trashcan again while looking for the two paper cups; then for good measure asked his mother about it too because he didn't trust himself anymore. She confirmed it, of course she did, sadness in her eyes, sadness for her son. Silently, he took out the trash.

His mother was angry with Hanna, so very angry, all on his behalf as she kept talking about it through dinner. Caleb didn't contribute to her heated arguments and accusations much but couldn't begrudge his mother her anger. After all, it's been Claudia who had to pick up the pieces after Hanna left. Yet strangely, he couldn't say he completely agreed with Claudia' anger, some part of him oddly feeling like he should be defending Hanna, defending her actions. Mostly though, he just felt depleted. Empty. And thoroughly disappointed. He really thought Hanna cared about him, cared enough to let him know, cared enough to be willing to spare him the nightmare of the past eight months. And he couldn't phantom how he was supposed to get over that.

So it's been three days already since she came to his door and he still hasn't called her. He desperately wants to hear her voice again, but he doesn't know how, or about what. Hanna suddenly feels like a stranger, like an impostor. Because _his_ Hanna had died. He knows because he buried her, stood over her grave, mourned her loss for months. Brought flowers to her grave, her _empty_ grave, every fucking month. How disgustedly ironic.

It's the evening of the third day when somebody knocks on his door. Softly, but assuredly. Caleb doesn't want to go to answer the door, since his curiosity didn't pay off the last time.

Instead, he stays holed up in his room, the glass of coffee resting on the table already half empty. He hears his mother get the door, listens to the quiet chatter coming from outside. One voice is his mother's, the other voice is female. For an instant, it makes him deflate, whether with relaxation or disappointment, he doesn't know. Because it's not _her_. But then he hears the voices grow nearer and he gets curious once again. Who could be visiting?

His questions are answered when his mother firmly knocks on his study's door, then opens without waiting for an invitation. "Caleb, you've got a visitor," she says, ushering somebody inside. "C'mon, don't be shy, he won't bite." She says and a timidly looking Ashley Marin, a woolly hat squeezed in a tight ball in her hands, slowly walks into the room.

* * *

_Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I'll still feel you here till the moment I'm gone._

_-Elena Gilbert. The Vampire Diaries._

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I didn't quite know how to write Claudia :/ Hopefully she wasn't too OOC.**

**Okay so 20 and an update tomorrow!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Well, 21! That's amazing. Firstly, 203 FUCKING REVIEWS! ON 12 CHAPTERS! You guys are so amazing, I can't even just, :') **

**Tvfreak13- Giirrrrllll. You're just killing meee. Stop itt! And yes, I thought that Claudia had to show some anger, I mean, c'mon! She had too. Well, can I just say that I now love Ashley/Caleb! They're amazing and so fun to write for, and we NEED more of them on the show!  
AL3110- Well, they might be in the next chapter! Stay tuned ;)  
Sarah- Well, aren't you one kind girl? :) Thank you for those wonderful words. Somehow, this story wouldn't have been complete without a mother figure for Caleb. And well, Ashley/Caleb is so easy to write for! Actually, I got 19, but I hit 200!  
tiediecrazy- Well, Hanna wants to do that! Wait for it!  
hufflepuffhaleb- Don't worry, I think Hanna wants to do the same ;)  
Ayoungnovelist- the feels are what make the story :) And I'll try to keep it in mind!  
Lissie- Thank you! :)  
NicciCastillo- Yeah, reading back, I thought that too. But, he's just lost the love of his life for 7 months, and he's mourned for it too! Hopefully this is better!  
prettylittlehaleblover- Ahley/Caleb are EPIC! Wait for it!  
elenathehaleber- Well, writing depressed Caleb is soo fun too! Thank you!  
BlackBaby- Thank you!  
msalv- I missed you! And yes you did miss a rollercoater, and hang on tight girl, it's about to get wild!  
Pllstorylover- Ashley/Caleb is da BOMMBB.  
Pretty. Little. Ahwee. 11- Its hereee!  
Treaanne- Well, now you can see what she says.  
Kiera- Well, here's your update!  
Diana- It's like you read my mind! And haha, no Bagilia is not my real name, and are you kidding me Diana?! It's one of the most amazing names ever! **

**Also, congratulations to Guest for being my 200****th**** reviewer!**

* * *

_"Why should we do anything more than once? Should I just smoke this one cigarette? Maybe we should only have sex once if it's the same thing. Should we just watch one sunset? Or just have one love? Or just live one day? Because it's a new every time. Each time is a different experience"_

_-Jane. Breaking Bad._

* * *

_He hears her mother open their front door, listens to the quiet chatter coming from outside. One voice is his mother's, the other voice is female. For an instant, it makes him deflate, relax. It's not her. But then he hears the voices grow and he gets curious once again. Who could be visiting?_

_His questions are answered when his mother firmly knocks on his study's door, then opens without waiting for an invitation. "Caleb, you've got a visitor," she says, ushering somebody inside. "C'mon, don't be shy, he won't bite." She says and a timidly looking Ashley Marin, a woolly hat squeezed in a tight ball in his hands, slowly walks into the room._

And just like that, Caleb's curiosity deflates, his face growing cold and distant, anger suddenly surging through him at the sight of Hanna's mother and partner in crime. He throws his body heavily against the back of the chair, gives a sigh. "If this isn't the devil's advocate," he proclaims dramatically, cannot hold the tint of hostility out of his voice. The woman has betrayed him, in the worst possible of ways.

"Now Caleb, behave!" his mother admonishes him, a scandalized look stealing over her face but Ashley just raises her hand in an appeasing gesture.

"That's alright Claudia, I kind of deserved that," she says before she turns back to Caleb, her features growing grave. "I hoped we could talk, Caleb."

"Did _she_ send you?" Caleb spits spitefully, nearly doesn't recognize himself. He doesn't know where the malice is coming from but he knows it's there, iron hot and pulsating.

Ashley looks momentarily confused, taken aback by Caleb's lash-out.

"Who, Hanna?" she asks as realization dawns upon him. "She'd kill me if she knew I was here," Ashley continues, shaking her head sadly. "No, I didn't come to plead my daughter's case. I am here for mine."

Caleb hates himself a little for feeling intrigued at Ashley's words. He gestures towards the chair, silently asking Ashley to sit down. The door closes the same moment Ashley obliges, his mother finally leaving them alone after making sure her son would behave in a civilized manner.

"I know you must be angry with me, Caleb," Ashley starts quietly.

"Damn right I'm angry!" Caleb shouts through. "You knew, all this time you knew and you didn't tell me." Oh God, not those stupid tears again. He wills them away. "You knew what it felt like and you still let me go through it! I considered you a friend Ashley, somebody to understand, somebody to share the joint burden. And all this time, you've been lying to me the same way _she_ was."

Ashley looks excessively uncomfortable, twists her hands in a very Marin-like manner. And she should, oh how she should feel ashamed for what she's done. "I loved her, Ashley, and you let me believe she was dead, for seven excruciatingly long months," Caleb finishes on a hiss, his eyes already rimmed red but no tears fall down, thank God.

"I had to," Ashley says desolately, "I am so sorry, Caleb, but I had to protect my daughter."

"You didn't trust me enough," Caleb accuses.

"That's not the reason and you know it," Ashley shoots back, her voice rising unexpectedly and Caleb is momentarily taken aback by the tone of power and authority he's never heard from the woman before.

"I couldn't tell you because my daughter's life depended on it. Not because I didn't trust you with the information, but because I am loyal to my daughter and I'd always put her needs and wishes in front of anybody else's, even mine," she says with her voice unwavering, fierce. "Surely, you must understand that

"So _she_ didn't want to tell me, that's what you are saying? That you were just respecting her wishes?" utters Caleb devastated, his voice surprisingly quiet.

"No," Ashley objects vehemently, "that's not what meant at all!" She seems to catch herself at the harshness of her tone and forces herself to lie back in a chair. She takes a deep breath and continues more calmly. "There was no greater wish for Hanna to be able to tell you Caleb, but she simply _couldn't_. It was part of the agreement, her lips were sealed. But you are right; she didn't want you to know even if you could, not because she didn't trust you, but because she wanted to keep you and your family safe." Caleb scoffs at that and Ashley presses on, "Do you want to know what she told me when I asked her why I couldn't let you know? Do you know what she said?" This gets Caleb's attention. "She freaked out, Caleb. She-completely-freaked-out," Ashley puts emphasizes on every word. "We had this one phone call per week, and one night, I asked her to be allowed to tell you because I simply couldn't keep looking at your tortured face. And upon hearing it, she completely panicked," explains Ashley, closing her eyes tiredly on the memory. "And you know how I know this?" she asks and purposefully waits for Caleb's reaction. Only when Caleb shakes his head does Ashley continue. "I know how scared she was at the thought Caleb, because she told me it could cost her her life. _Her_ life. See Caleb, I know my daughter better than anybody else. And I know for a fact that she would never use that argument against me, _never_, except when she was completely desperate and absolutely scared of what I might do."

"Only proves my point," Caleb utters quietly.

"No it doesn't!" Ashley interjects, "That's where you are wrong," she groans, growing agitated. Caleb cannot blame her. None of this makes sense. "She needed you safe Caleb, you and your family, and me, she wanted us all safe. And that could only happen if everybody thought she was dead."

Caleb only shakes his head. "I could have kept her secret," he protests stubbornly.

"And I don't doubt that, not for a second." Ashley heaves a deep sigh. "Trust me, there was a long time I couldn't understand it myself, couldn't understand why Hanna was so opposed against the idea, but then I thought about it and now I'm asking you to think about it too, Caleb. And think about it hard." Caleb gives her a confused yet stubborn look that Ashley returns as fiercely. "If I told you Hanna was alive, what would you have done?" Caleb stays quiet. "First thing, you would want to make sure for yourself, wouldn't you?" claims Ashley and it's barely a question, they both know it's true. "But you couldn't do that, because you weren't supposed to know in the first place. So what would you do then?" She gives Caleb another couple of seconds to contemplate her question. "You would call me, right? Every Sunday evening, meet me for dinner, talk to me as often as possible -"

"We still did that," Caleb protests.

"Yes, but we did it as a ritual, something that mourning people do," Ashley offers softly. "Nothing fancy or exciting. Just two people helping each other to carry their grief."

"But that's the point, if you told me, I didn't have to mourn her," Caleb replies in hiss, his anger rising again. His chest clenches with pain at the memory of the shiny white casket and blood red roses. It was all for nothing, just a freak show to throw them all off.

"Exactly!" agrees Ashley, her eyes shining with zeal to make Caleb understand. "And people might have noticed! Your lack of shock and grief, your need to call me, meet me, going on with your life like you were merely _waiting _for something to happen…_that_ would be the most suspicious thing to do."

"I could have pretended, I could have done that," objects Caleb, but his voice is lacking conviction. Ashley's eyes soften.

"You may have Caleb, but you may have not. It was…safer this way. Not easier, no. But safer. I am…" Ashley starts, sighs. She runs his fingers through her hair. "I am not trying to justify anything, nor trying to belittle your pain and sacrifice. I am just trying to explain, Caleb. Explain to you that my daughter decided not to tell you not because she didn't care, but because she cared too much."

"I could have kept her secret," Caleb repeats stubbornly in a chant, but the fight has already left him. He knows, deep down, that Ashley is right. That he would never do the things he did if he knew she was out there, somewhere, waiting to be reunited. He would have been edgy, and even sad, impatient and angry, nosy and grumpy. But he would go on with his life still, go to school more often, and even venture outside. He would 'pretend' to be devastated. And yes, it would only be pretending. And some people, who'd be looking too closely, might notice.

"My daughter would never forgive herself if anything happened to you, or to your mother and father, all only because she was too desperate to let you know the truth. It would be something she'd view as utterly selfish." Ashley continues after a beat of silence, sadly shaking her head. "Hanna knew what she was doing. It may appear cold and inconsiderate of her at the first sight, but the very opposite is the truth; she didn't tell you to protect you, despite knowing - better than anybody else probably - what that would to you, how she would break your heart; and that you might never forgive her for that lie. And trust me Caleb, I've heard it, felt it, every single time we talked over the phone, how that knowledge of what she had put you and your friends through, put _me_ through, weighted on her." Ashley's eyes mist over, shying from Caleb's momentarily. "I could never as much as alleviate that crushing burden of responsibility I could hear in her voice each and every time we talked."

Despite himself, Caleb is intrigued by Ashley's words. And a little ashamed too. As for now, he didn't spend a single thought on how that must have been for Hanna, the past seven months. How _she_ must have felt, locked up and lonely, considered dead to the world, by her family friends, everybody but her mother, and the other three.

"We've had a single phone call every Sunday night. One hour," Ashley explains, as if sensing Caleb's sudden interest and need to fill in the blanks. "That first one was the hardest. When she made me go over the details of her funeral, asking me about _you_…see she always asked about you, one way or another," she said, a sad smile gracing her lips. "I had my assumptions that you two were meant to be together."

A tight lump forms in Caleb's throat.

"It all fell together only once I've read that letter you wrote for her. Trust me Caleb, until then, I've had no idea. But after reading it, and your admission, a lot of things suddenly started to make sense."

"What things?" asks Caleb, suddenly desperate for more information, wanting to know more, wanting to know more about her, about Hanna. _God, Hanna_. Something stirs inside of his chest, a warm and fuzzy, breezy feeling he hasn't felt in ages. He doesn't want to dissect what exactly it stands for, not just yet. But he already has an idea, even as he forces the caring and affectionate emotions aside.

Ashley gives another saddened smile. "Like why she felt so guilty over you. And why you were so utterly devastated upon learning of her death, why you felt guilty and responsible for what has happened to her. And why she felt so trapped, so desperate, so in need to escape the place she's been at for so long. See, they told her it would take weeks, months tops. She could never have expected to be gone for so long. I think they might have suspected she would never agree to that, I don't know." Ashley sighs, her eyes wandering to the half empty glass of coffee on Caleb's desk.

"That day at the cemetery, when I saw your face, I realized, you knew everything about her, about me. About our family. Ashley ended her sentence pointedly, ashamed to say it out loud.

If earth could swallow him whole, Caleb would wish it could happen at this very moment. "I'm sorry," he babbles, but Ashley shakes his concerns away with a light wave of her hand. "It's alright, I don't mind. It actually revealed more about Hanna's feelings for you to me than anything else." Caleb's eyebrows grow at that statement, urging Ashley to explain.

"See, Hanna, as you surely know Caleb, is a highly private, self-reliant person. I know there are not more than a handful of people to whom she ever told about…_our problems_." Ashley screws her face in discomfort, something akin to shame stealing across her face. "That's when I knew you must be really special to her. I know, for a fact, she hasn't told this to any of her previous boyfriends. " She is clearly ashamed now, Caleb can see, and he feels a sudden surge of sympathy for her.

"I am sure you were doing what you thought was right, back then," he offers, winces when he realized how that must have sounded. Ashley gives a mirthless laugh.

"Not nearly enough, son. I should've been there for her," she says in shame, biting her lip in what Caleb is sure now must be a classic Marin trademark. "I wonder, up until this day," Ashley continues ever so quietly, "have I been there for her back then, like the parent I was supposed to be, would her life turned out differently."

It's Caleb's turn to plead Hanna's case, because he knows for a fact she would never want her mother to feel this way. "I don't know Ashley. But I think she'd still be friends with Ali, still lose her, still find A, no matter how much you'd have tried to be there for her," he says earnestly. He doubts anybody could have stopped her back then, probably not even her mother. She was too far gone, too shaken by the injustice of the system, too obsessed with her cause to let anything and anybody stop her. He understands that now.

Ashley's eyes rise to Caleb's and although he doesn't look too convinced, she gives a tiny nod of acknowledgement. "I still think I destroyed something in her back then. With my actions, or better said, in-actions. I think I ruined her trust in people. Formed her belief that she can never count on another human being to take care of her and that she needs to feel like nobody is to be trusted but herself. And that has certainly…complicated things for her, in more ways than one. Mostly for her private life, her relationships," Ashley offers and Caleb is again shocked by the woman's openness in these things, the sincerity behind his words. Ashley Marin must really consider him a friend. He feels honored before he feels his heart sink a little in his chest. Because Caleb knows that this moment deserves honesty and he cannot tell that he completely disagrees with Ashley's words, her reasoning.

Still, "She's a complicated person." Caleb replies, watches Ashley nod sadly. "But that's part of what makes her so special, exceptional and unique. And I wouldn't have her any other way," Caleb adds and sees Ashley raise her eyes surprisingly to his.

"You are a good man, Caleb," offers Ashley quietly. They sit for a moment in silence, both of them lost in their thoughts.

A thought occurs to Caleb, a memory pressing itself to the forefront of his mind. "My letter, the one I gave you at the cemetery. It was for her, wasn't it?" Caleb asks, the realization suddenly hitting him with the force of a loaded truck. "Why did you take it?" he asks, and there is the slightest trace of accusation in his voice again.

"Because she needed it," Ashley explains. "She's been depressed, for weeks. The case was going nowhere, her life was escaping her, disappearing through her fingers. She was still agonizing over you, the lack of contact from you, what she did to you. I could hear it in her voice on the phone, how she was degrading, how she was starting to give up, submitting to the notion that she was never coming back. That even if she was, things could never be the same again, that she could never have a life she so much wanted. I knew the only thing able to give her hope was something of you. And what better way to do that than through your letter?" Ashley offers, but Caleb doesn't fully understand and Ashley seems to catch on that. "There is still so much you don't know about my daughter, but this is something she should have the chance to explain to you herself," Ashley concludes, slightly apologetic.

"Did it help? The letter I mean. Did it help her?" Caleb cannot stop himself from asking, watching in surprise when Ashley's face splits into a huge smile.

"It did Caleb, and you'll probably never know how much."

Caleb averts his eyes, hides his gaze in the tiny crack in the surface of his table, result of one of his wild breakouts, over her, months ago. He realizes he wants to believe Ashley so badly, wants to believe Hanna cared about him the same way he cared about her, still cares about her.

The thought startles him, the present tense his mind forces him to operate with. It's a new feeling, yet still oddly familiar. He doesn't know what to do with it so he stores it somewhere back in his mind to be dealt with later.

"She asked me to look after you, you know," says Ashley, lost in her own memories. "Every single week, she asked about you, about news about you and your family. I think those might have been her only positive, albeit tainted and bittersweet moments throughout her entire week of non-contact with the outside world."

"Where was she? What happened to her?" Caleb finds himself asking, slightly ashamed he has to ask her mother for information on her because he didn't care to ask her herself when he had the chance. Ashley gives a bitter smile.

"So you noticed the change in appearance too, huh?" she meets Caleb's eyes, a flash of understanding passing between the two of them. Ashley continues.

"She lost at least 10 pounds, though that's just my rough estimate because she refuses to tell me the exact figure. Keeps evading my questions, tells me she wasn't much hungry because she got so little time out. But we both know she's lost weight and we both know it's not because the police couldn't afford to properly feed her."

Caleb's eyes shy away. He feels oddly responsible. "And you've lost a lot of weight too," Ashley observes quietly, watching Caleb closely now and the younger man squirms uncomfortably in his chair.

"I'm fine," he says, which makes Ashley click her tongue in dissatisfaction. "You and my daughter sound just the same," she says, party amused, party annoyed. It earns her a sheepish look from Caleb.

Ashley grows serious again. "Do you think you can ever give her another chance, Caleb?" she asks unexpectedly and all air rushes from Caleb's lungs. "You have to understand, I truly didn't come here to plead her case, but I wouldn't be a very good mother if I didn't ask." She explains, slightly uncomfortable.

Caleb doesn't answer right away. He feels trapped. This is a private matter, why does everybody keep butting in? Why does everybody demand an answer? And why the hell is everybody putting this on him?

"She cares about you," says Ashley. "Like I've never seen her care for another man before," She sighs. "And I wish I could offer her everything she needs right now, but I am not even close. I know she is working on getting back her friends," she meets Caleb's surprised gaze. "But I know she'd still feel lonely if she wouldn't get back you, too. And I don't want to pressure you or tell you what to do, Caleb," she sighs, suddenly sounding way too old and tired. "But I haven't lost anyone , so I know a little about how you felt the last couple of months. And I swear, I would be mad as hell if the love of my life suddenly appeared on my doorstep and told me it was all but a lie. There would be a lot of anger and bitterness, but at the end of the day, I would still thank God or some higher deity that she was alive and safe." She looks at Caleb then and the brutal truth of her words glistering in Ashley's eyes rattles Caleb to the core. He has to avert his gaze, the intensity of Ashley's look too much.

"It's not a matter of anger," Caleb says quietly, looking anywhere but at Ashley.

"So you don't love her anymore?" Ashley asks, and there is pain for her daughter in her voice and words, but also understanding for Caleb. It's this that convinces Caleb that he can be honest with Ashley, that whatever he tells her will never leave this room because he will be telling it to Ashley 'his friend', and not Ashley 'Hanna's mother'.

He shakes his head. "It's not that either," he utters in a whisper. "I never really stopped loving your daughter Ashley, you must have noticed that by now." He gives Ashley a self-deprecating smile. "I just pushed those feelings down, really deep. And I'm finding it a real struggle to retrieve them back, unharmed. But I know they are there, dusty, but intact."

"Yet something is holding you back," Ashley observes and Caleb lets out a heavy sigh. He has a hard time defining the thing itself.

"I don't know how I am supposed to trust her again," he blurts out, admitting the truth at last, not just to Ashley, but to himself too.

Ashley ponders his words for a while. "You're afraid of what she might do in the future? That she might run away on you, again?" she asks carefully and Caleb nods, moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. He can suddenly feel how much he craves a solution for this, how much he wants that unshakeable trust in Hanna restored.

"She won't disappear on you like that ever again," Ashley says resolutely, grabbing one of Caleb hands over the table.

"How can you know?" Caleb asks, not hostile but genuinely confused, lost, his voice slightly trembling. He wouldn't survive it again, and the mere thought scares the shit out of him. How can he give himself so freely to her again when he cannot trust this won't happen again, somehow, somewhere?

"She promised she was done with A," says Caleb at last, "What if the man behind Ali's murder won't get convicted? What if someone from his past emerges again? What if this is not over?" All these possibilities scare him, he's never dared to voice them, but now that they are out, Caleb understands what's been holding him back these past few days. Fear, utter terror of being abandoned, left behind, by Hanna again. He can see the understanding, the pain for him in Ashley's eyes, but he doesn't want compassion, he wants answers, desperately needs reassurances, cold logic and calculating reasoning to convince him.

"You really think her disappearing act had anything to do with taking revenge on Ali's killers?" Ashley asks, and the question throws Caleb off.

"Didn't it?" he asks, confused.

Ashley shakes his head. "Of course not," she says somewhat indignant, then softens her voice. "I'm sorry Caleb. I sometimes forget the only side you've seen of Hanna was that case-obsessed one. You never actually got to see the one she developed over the past few months." Caleb's thoroughly befuddled by his words and Ashley can see she's not doing a particularly good job at explaining herself. She tries anew. "Caleb, the only thing I've heard my daughter obsess about in the past seven months was the life she left behind. She's been relentlessly working on that case, yet she refused to talk about it, because she didn't care about it. At least not in the capacity you would expect her to. She wanted it done, over with, yes. Of course she wanted to get justice, but she was more concerned about when she could come home, back to the things she left unresolved to pick up them up again," Ashley argues and Caleb wants so much to believe her.

"You really want to know what tipped the scales for her, Caleb? What made her accept that impossible offer?" Caleb isn't sure he wants to know, but Ashley offers anyway.

"I think she would never have told me, not if she were her usual self. But the solitude was getting to her in the past few months and she told me things I am sure she would never want to burden me with if there was any other way to avoid it. It was our first call after she received your letter and Caleb, she was as emotional as I've ever heard my daughter. She read your letter by then. That's how she knew…" Ashley stopped for a beat, giving Caleb a sheepish look, "That I had to know too, about the way you felt her." Caleb feels his face grow hot, but he strains his ears to hear every single one of Ashley's words, not realizing he's holding his breath, slightly rocking closer to him over the table.

"She was a wreck, that day and it might have scared me if I didn't know it was the first real emotion I've heard in her voice for weeks. She told me a little about it then, how she thought about walking away from that house even when she knew there was a person waiting for her, to torture her. But she knew that if she stayed, she would most probably be dead meat in a matter of weeks—"

"I would have protected her," Caleb jumps in, his voice dripping with fierce conviction.

"And that's what she was really afraid of," supplies Ashley gently, "That you, or possibly even your mother by extension, could get hurt by this thing. You've already tried to take a bullet for her once, Caleb." Ashley reminds him, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Caleb. "And she wouldn't risk that, wouldn't take that up on her conscience. That's why she took that deal, Caleb; not because she was blinded by the prospect of getting revenge for her friend's death, but to end this thing once and for all so you all could be safe."

"And what if it won't end?" asks Caleb in a raspy voice. "What if sometime in the future, some of Ezra's companions becomes active again to come hunt her again, or another character fixates on her? Will she push me away again to keep me safe? How can I trust she won't make such a rash decision again?"

Ashley gives a mighty sigh. "I guess that's why it's called trust Caleb, you cannot get guarantees for that. It's a belief like any other. But," she continues when she sees Caleb's doubts being merely affirmed by her words, "I've seen the change in my daughter, Caleb. I don't know whether it came before or after this whole mess happened, but I know her enough to tell you that she wants to live, as fully as she can, she just doesn't know how to do that yet. The past few months certainly haven't contributed to that." Ashley gives a small pause then looks at Caleb with a newly found resolve in her eye. "I tell you what Caleb. How about you come by sometime, when you feel ready. You're most welcome, anytime. Just to talk, nothing more. Hanna could certainly use some company, a friendly face to talk to other than mine. Maybe this way the both of you can get some of your bearings again." She offers carefully and something inside of Caleb rings the alarming bells. He doesn't know why, but Ashley's words cause sudden panic rising in his chest. Truth is, he has no idea how Hanna is right now, in what shape of body and mind she existed in ever since she disappeared. And something in Ashley's words, albeit very slightly, suggests she's not doing that well either. He desperately wants, _needs_, to know more, make sure this is all just his imagination.

"What about Mona, Toby and Paige? Did she talk to them yet?" Somehow, he hopes she did, that she has at least her friends back. He doesn't want to imagine her like that, sitting all alone in her mother's house, no home, no friends, well technically she had her best friends, but still, no purpose in life. Despite his residual resentment, he hates the idea of her having to go through another painful conversation alike the one the two of them had. And with such a disastrous outcome nonetheless.

Ashley's eyes shy away slightly. "She's met with them yesterday. I don't know the details, only that it didn't go that well with all of them."

Caleb's chest clenches. He has a sudden urge to see her, hug her, to shield her from the harshness of the outside world.

"I'm sure they'll come around soon, though," Ashley suggest more lightly, her look pointed, the tiniest smile dancing over her lips. And Caleb suddenly knows that Ashley's debunked him, read his thoughts clearly on his face. And that Ashley now knows. That she's got him; that _Hanna's_ got him. Got him back.

* * *

_"I came to realize that fear is the worst of it. That's the real enemy. So get up, get out in the real world, and you kick that bastard as hard as you can, right in the teeth"_

_-Walter White. Breaking Bad._

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**A/N: Gatorade me, BITCH! Sorry, on a Breaking Bad high. I just love that show. And Jesse. I watch for him. Aaron Paul is da bomb. **

**Review! 18 and an update!**

XOXO  
Bagilia


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hey guys, I am so F'ing tired right now. Do you have any idea how tired you can get writing? Okay, I'm too tired to reply to the reviews right now, but all you guys just need to know that you make my day. Every single one of you. It makes me feel a bit better every time, and it's just amazing. I love you guys so much! :')**

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_"__Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb, but they refuse. They cling to the realm, or the gods, or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is."_

_― George R.R. Martin. Game of Thrones._

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It's been _already_ a whole day and he hasn't called, hasn't messaged, hasn't done…anything. It's been _only_ a day and she is already climbing the walls at her house. She's unpacked her things, thoroughly this time, not just haphazardly thrown them out of the suitcases and laid out in random places, no. She's given it a real thought, made it a mission of hers. She's been _arranging_ the items that have been her only companions for the greater part of the past year around this place that was her home. She put all her things in an order than felt natural, felt good, felt right to Hanna. Made her feel at least a little bit more at home here.

She is taking her time with the room, spends the whole of morning up until late afternoon decorating it, making herself at home. Her mother gives her permission to take and use whatever furniture and stuff from the house she likes, but she goes for the items in the dusted boxes stocked in the garage instead. She is rummaging through the mountains of furniture, decorations and memorabilia like a treasure hunter at a yards sale, in search for some familiar items they've moved and stocked here from their former home, stuff her mother kept boxed for nearly a decade now and never got to actually unpack.

She understands her reasons completely, for her morning is spend with her stomach curling into tight painful knots whenever she hits a box with items that hold particularly familiar, sentimental or heart-crushing memories. Which are nearly all of them.

However, she finds what she's looking for, something to make her feel more comfortable, more familiar, more at ease. She takes a nice, ancient lamp her mother used to love, a wide wooden chair with pealing white paint that used to belong to their former kitchen table, a couple of patchwork cushions she made her mom sew for her when she was just about to start high school, a huge world map that used to hang in her room for the short time until she thought she was turning into, a Spencer. A favorite duvet they all used to curl under while watching movies when she was still a little girl. She even finds an antique wooden clock that used to belong to her grandmother, the amateur magician, along with a deck of cards that was hidden under an odd assortment of strange looking magic-trick props.

She scrubs the room clean, goes along with the bathrooms up- and downstairs, then cleans the whole kitchen, proceeds with the majority of the house. Her mother is a tidy enough person but still, for the past seven months, it is clear her mother hasn't even bothered about cleaning.

She puts all her frustration and vigor into the task at hand, unable to stay still, sit down and relax, because she knows what kind of thoughts will come haunting her if she allows her mind and body at least a minute of unsupervised rest.

The fiasco of a reunion with Caleb is still at the forefront of her mind. It doesn't let her sleep, doesn't allow her to relax her tense muscles, won't allow her red-rimmed eyes to soothe.

She's screwed it up, all of it, both of them, so badly. And so far it looks like there is no easy way back. Maybe no way back at all. She mentally slaps herself for that thought, refuses to think like that. She so works; cleans; cooks; will do anything really, if it only keeps her depressing thoughts at bay.

She isn't naïve. She didn't expect him at her door an hour after she dropped the bomb at his place last night, happy and forgiving, but she would be lying if she said she didn't hope for him to take some time to cool down a little and then call her, maybe with some more questions, demands, accusations, anger even. She could take all that, and she would take it gladly. What she can't deal with is this deafening silence on his end, silence that stretches from the late night into the early morning hours and late afternoon as she keeps herself busy with slowly rebuilding her life, starting from the simplest things.

Still it doesn't help; the room, the house. Not even her mother. She feels very much as dead as she was the previous day, the previous seven months. Nobody knows she is alive outside her mother and now also Caleb, who apparently doesn't know what to do with the information as it is right now.

So after doing her laundry and fixing some dinner for her and her mother, darkness looming outside the windows once again, she feels ready to crawl out of her skin with buzzing energy and nerves. She needs to get out, either that or start crying again, and she's finished with crying, has had enough of that in the previous months to last her a lifetime. She is out of that damn house, is allowed to go outside, venture into the world, find other means to release her anger, sadness or frustration.

Her mother seems to understand her needs, doesn't pressure her into talking or indulging in some common activities, gives her the space. And when after dinner she announces she's going for a run, she doesn't utter a single word in protest, despite the chilly snowfall weather outside the windows. She doesn't even have proper shoes and it's truly freezing. Still, she needs this and her mother must sense this too, God bless her. Mild hypothermia or ensuing cold must seem a far better option than the two of them staying locked up in the same house for the next couple of hours.

Hanna has to admit that so far, her mother's being extremely gracious and generous about all of this, giving her space and letting her be. She knows he must be itching with the need for her, after all, she hasn't seen her in nearly seven months either. And still, so far she's been more considerate of her than she could ever expect of him. She makes a mental note to thank her later, when she comes back, makes a point to make it up to her, let her know how very much everything she's done for her, is _still_ doing for her in fact, is appreciated.

She takes her sneakers, the only pair she currently possesses, using an impregnation spray on them, like that could really help against inches of show. She puts on a couple layers of clothing, which is an odd mixture really; tries as best as she can to shield herself from the cold. She really should do some so much needed shopping as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow? The day after that?

She goes for her run. And when she comes back two hours later, sweaty, soaked, spend yet slightly more relaxed and lighthearted than before, her head is finally clear. She's made up her mind and she knows now that she cannot stay a ghost any longer, not even a single day. She seeks out her mother, sitting in the living room by the TV, watching some reality show and asks her without preamble to invite her friends over the next day under a pretense. She wants to talk to them, she tells her mom, wants to crawl out of her hiding. She doesn't add that she needs their support right now more than she ever did in the past. Her mother seems to understand anyway. She gives a slight nod in her direction, tells her to consider it done.

She leaves to make the calls and she is glad, really glad, for the first time since yesterday. She sinks into the cushioned armchair, oblivious of her state of clothes, buries her face into her hands.

She's been thinking about trying to talk to them separately, but she probably wouldn't be able to stomach the revelation for more times than one. Even Caleb was already one time too many. Her heart twists in her chest painfully at the thought, at the look he gave her as he opened the door, at the mere sight of him, still in his pajamas, disheveled, unkempt and unshaven, dark circles running under his eyes. He's lost weight, she noticed right on, a _lot_. She did some of that herself, but where she seems to have gained more muscle from her heavy workouts he seemed to simply have _lost_ the mass. In fact, he looked even thinner than when she first met him, and it wasn't a healthy kind of thin either.

She sits in the armchair, running her hands through her wet hair, willing the thoughts of him to go away. Feeling guilt or worry over it won't help either of them. He knows the truth now and he needs time, and she is willing to give him that. Anything he needs, really; whatever he needs to feel happy again. _Maybe what would really make him happy would be you not messing in his life again_, a small voice in the back of her mind hisses, but she wills the thought away. This is Caleb's call to make, Caleb's decision. She can only wait.

He mother returns into the room after a while, her look gloomy, but she nods at her nevertheless. "They'll be here tomorrow night, around eight," she offers gently, " I merely told them there was a matter I wanted to talk to them about, they didn't even ask further questions."

She watches Hanna nod, takes her slowly in, sighs. "Hanna, you are soaking wet. Why don't you take a shower while I make you a cup of strong tea?" she suggest, oh so gently. She looks at her, grateful, gives him a small smile. Her loving mother, once upon a time her savior. She nods, gets up from the chair, peals away the half-frozen first layers of wet clothing.

"Thanks mom," she utters as she passes him by, stopping at her side to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "Love you."

She takes a quick shower and returns downstairs afterwards, refusing to listen to her inner voice that calls her to hole up in her room and sulk. No, that would be way too easy. And Hanna Marin doesn't do easy. She joins her mother in the living room, pleased to see her muting the television in her favor, a steaming cup of herbal tea already sitting on the table.

She thinks for a moment about what to do, what to say. Then a thought comes to her mind, what she found in one of the boxes earlier today. She crosses the room, opens the drawer she's hidden it in, the ancient deck of cards. She smiles victoriously, showing the cards to her mom. "Game of rummy? I'll play your pants off," she challenges, watches the recognition, the delight, the affection come alight on her mother's wrinkled face. _Oh, mom._

She smiles, nods. They play late into the night, and Hanna is actually having fun.

* * *

She's hiding in her room when her closest friends arrive the next day though, all at once, along with Spencer and Emily. She is sitting on her bed, her hands slightly trembling, forcing herself to take deep gulps of air. She can do this. She suddenly breaks their silence.

"Anyone heard from Aria?"

"No." Spencer's voice is hoarse, and Hanna can see how badly she's shivering, for unlike her, she hasn't told Toby yet.

She can hear them downstairs, their voices muted yet distinguishable and oh so painfully familiar. Her mother appears at her door a moment later, gives her that look that tells her it's time. She's got her keys in her hand, her jacket slung around her arm. She's giving them the privacy of an empty house and once again, she is amazed at how considerate and generous she seems to be with this, how well she knows her. She crosses the room, presses a soft kiss against her withered cheek. In return, her mom envelopes her in a warm hug she never wants to escape from, protective and safe. "You can do this Hanna," she whispers against her hair and she wills herself to believe him. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She nods against his shoulder and follows him down the stairs, halting at the very last bottom step. Her mom turns around, sends her an encouraging smile. The next moment is she gone, and she doesn't have any more time to mentally prepare herself for what is to come because she can already hear her friends wondering aloud where Ashley's disappeared to, having heard the door shut behind him.

She takes one last deep breath before turning the corner, before grabbing the two other girls hands, walking into the room. Three sets of eyes settle on her, three sets of mouths stop talking at once and drop open. It would have been funny, if only it wasn't so gut-wrenching.

"Hey, guys." It's a stupid thing to say.

A vase shatters against the wall, followed by a string of loud curses. It's been fifteen minutes and they've just finished their monologue, explaining as best as they could the past seven months to their friends, still standing close to the doorway yet holding their ground. They could see it in their faces, the whole process, how their expressions went from shocked through astounded to disbelieving and then finally realization hit them, that this was really true. Then they saw the anger, the hurt, the betrayal. That's when the vase broke, Toby's nerves having snapped at last, sending the first offensive piece of furniture crashing against the wall.

"Toby, I'm sorry," Spencer pleads but he's already halfway to the door, the fury bordering on hatred shocking her as he passes her by. She spins after him, calling his name, but the door slams shut behind him. She turns back to the two remaining people, her heart painfully fluttering in her chest.

Paige is sitting there, shock still sitting deep in her eyes, mouth slightly agape. Emily can see she's trying to work through it, slowly, methodically. She rises to her feet at last and Emily panics, not her too! But when she crosses the room, her arms come up to envelope her in a tight, warming hug and unshed tears finally spill from her eyes.

"I'm just glad you're okay," she says, her own voice trembling as she nearly moans with relief. Emily hugs Paige tighter, as she lets her warmth envelope her. She disentangles at last and Hanna is surprised, but then maybe not that much, to see her brown eyes glister with unshed tears too. God, those brown eyes, how they only remind her of Caleb's now.

"I'll talk to him, don't worry. He'll come around," she tells Spencer, giving her one quick hug and then she's out the door too, leaving with Emily, leaving her standing still and surprised in her spot. She takes a deep breath, turns to her best friend, preparing herself for cascading tears

Hanna expects to find anger and sadness on her friend's face, but she is met with deadly silence. Her heart sinks at the disappointment and disbelief she finds in Spencer's eyes and her own eyes drop to the ground in inexplicable shame.

"Spencer, I…" she starts, but trails off. She expected the Hastings to stop her, talk across her, because she knows how bad Hanna is with words, but she doesn't. She merely sits there, expectant for comfort. And _hurt_.

"I'm sorry," Hanna whispers to the room that suddenly feels way too large, separating her from her friend by miles rather than a few feet. Spencer just shakes her head and Hanna's suddenly frustrated; she cannot read the gesture, doesn't understand it. After a long while, Spencer finally speaks, but it's in a grave, quiet tone, so unfamiliar of her.

"How could they do that to us Hanna? _Why_ would they do that to us?" she asks, her dark eyes sparkling.

"You know why," Hanna says, uncomfortably shifting in her spot, feeling like a small child being reprimanded.

"Do I, now?" asks Spencer accusingly, her moist eyes and trembling lip belying the sharpness of her voice.

"It was to protect them," Hanna defends but Spencer won't have any of it.

"Nuh-uh, they put us through hell Hanna Marin! Me, you, Emily, Aria, Toby Paige _and_ Caleb," Hanna flinches at the last name, "and I won't let you defend those idiots."

Spencer's angry but that's good, that's something Hanna can work with, if only her own anger and frustration wasn't starting to seep into her tone and posture too. "It's not a defense, Spencer," she snaps back sharply, short-tempered. "There was a very real person who murdered Ali. And who tortured us for more than a year. If we wouldn't take what they offered and disappeared, We'd be dead for real by now or on the run endangering everybody who'd be in any association with us, including the boys, _Toby_, my mom or Caleb," she argues but Spencer already shakes her head.

"I'm not talking about that Hanna, I get that part, alright?" she says in a loud yet measured voice, taking all the wind from Hanna's speech. "But I can't believe they let them all believe we'd been murdered," accuses Spencer, her voice still shaky and eyes glistering in the dim light of the room.

"Spencer, I know, alright? I know it's hard…"

"We know nothing, Hanna!" Spencer shouts and Hanna flinches back from the broken tone of her friend's voice. "They were at my house that morning Hanna; they saw our damn corpses! Hell, I think your mom personally pulled that chain with your angel from around your neck…or whomever's poor neck that was, okay? So I think I deserve - I think _we all_ deserve - to be a little angry for their scam here," she spats, her hands curled into tight fists at her sides.

"We couldn't tell anyone Spencer, they wouldn't allow it," replies Hanna, her voice gaining a desperate lilt, "God knows we wanted to but we simply _couldn't_! And it was for the best, it was for _our _protection too!" She knows shouting is a bad move, but she cannot help herself, her frustration growing inside of her. Why is everybody putting this on her? Why is everybody making her the bad guys here? She didn't call the shots, she was merely a pawn in the Police's game yet here they all are, blaming her for things she had absolutely no control over.

"Our protection…" Spencer repeats indignantly, "Do you have any idea what our _protection_," she spats the word, "had costs? How it broke Toby? Devastated Paige? How it hurt our families? How it nearly _killed_ Caleb?"

Again, the mention of Caleb makes Hanna recoil, the haunted look, those sunken eyes and the way too thin frame swimming in front of her eyes again, the guilty knowledge festering in her stomach. She feels sick. "We couldn't tell anyone, and you know that!" she shouts back desperately, tears spilling from her eyes and she hates it, hates them, hates everything right now. "I cannot believe _you_ of all people don't get it, that Toby doesn't get it, that you act like this was something we did to all of them on purpose!" she accuses.

"Well, what did you expect?" Spencer retaliates, "They make them believe we were dead and then come back seven months later expecting them to take us back like it never happened?" her words knock the wind out of Hanna's lungs. They cut too close, are too familiar, too similar to what Caleb said to her only two days prior, but Spencer continues ruthlessly. "And how dare they make us to do this every one else? How can you even _wonder_ that he's pissed? We're so damn selfish, Hanna!"

Spencer's completely enraged now, so much she fails to see Hanna sway in her spot. She has a problem taking up air, her world spinning. She's losing them, her friends, her family, losing them all. And she doesn't understand it, doesn't get it, the _why_. She merely tried to do the right thing for them all, and it's not enough. Everything's gone, everybody's gone. She's got nothing and no one and it's on her. She shakes her head, stumbles back, then forward again, until somehow her bottom finds the nearest surface she can rest on. The coffee table, her mind hazily supplies.

"Well, it wasn't exactly a picnic for me either, Spencer," she utters ever so quietly, bitterly, her throat closed up in a tight fist, heart beating wildly. She feels…defeated. The realization only comes now, in an aftermath; her death, her mother, Caleb, Toby, Paige…too many to sacrifice. A fat tear glides down her cheek, then another. "I've lost everything Spencer," she whispers, and insanely, a tiny sad smile comes to settle on her face. She looks towards Spencer, but she's not really looking at her, her gaze unfocused, suddenly tired. "I've got no home, I've got no life and no friends." _And it appears I've lost the man I love too_, Hanna adds silently in her head while she shrugs, then hiccups the same moment a mirthless laugh escapes her lips. "So..uhm, I'm sorry if I'm not in a particularly submissive or humble mood. I…I know that what we've done appears inexcusable, because yes, I knew how much it would hurt them all when we took the deal. Still, we did it for all the right reasons, Spencer, at least believe that."

Her gaze is still unfocused, following the line of her arms and settling on her hands, absentmindedly observing her fingernails digging into the fabric of her shirt, protracting her sleeves, a nervous, twitching gesture. Another tear cascades down her face and Hanna finds she doesn't care anymore; is simply just waiting for Spencer to rise to her feet and leave too, like everybody else.

But her friend doesn't go anywhere, doesn't shift in her spot, sits there, unmoving on the couch the same way Hanna sits on the table, in silence. "It's alright Spencer, you can go," Hanna blurts out despite the fact that her mind screams the exact opposite at her. Still, if Spencer wants to go, there is not much Hanna can go about it; she can hardly chain her to radiator in order to keep her friend close.

She smiles a little at that. That sounded like something Caleb may have said. She's too lost in her own thoughts to notice at first when Spencer's hand comes to cover hers, so lost in fact her friend needs to squeeze Hanna's hand tightly to gain her attention.

"Nuh-uh, Hanna Marin. No way in hell am I going anywhere now. Not when we all are so broken," she says in a quite, slightly annoyed tone, clicking her tongue in such a Spencer-ish way that it makes Hanna's head snap up, surprised laughter bubbling in her chest. Before she can properly look into Spencer's face, she's being enveloped in a tight hug, one of Spencer's hands coming to cradle her head.

"Doesn't mean I'm still not mad!" Spencer warns, but her tone is lighter, more teasing, and Hanna finds herself relaxing in the embrace.

"Thank you, Spencer," she whispers against her friend's head, the raven hair coming to tickle her chin as Spencer bobs her head up and down. "You're welcome," she murmurs back before finally disentangling and Hanna is surprised to see tear tracks on her friends cheeks.

"Now on another topic, what the hell are you wearing?" Spencer asks in mock indignation, seizing Hanna up and down dramatically in an attempt to lighten the mood a little. "It's winter and you've got a pair of khakis and a summer blouse? Heavens, what in the world happened to your closet?"

Hanna would have taken offense, she really would, if it only didn't feel so damn good to be reprimanded by her best friend once again. A lets out a small laugh, then seizes Spencer's hand.

"C'mon Spencer, I'm gonna show you something."

* * *

_"Most of us are not so strong. What is humor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory and our great tragedy."_

_― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones_

* * *

**A/N:That's right guys, we're counting down all my fav TV shows/Books! In the quote thingys. **

** Looking back, I realize this might have been a bit confusing. Basically its angry Spencer. She's angry towards the cops cause they made her die, and she's almost lost Toby, blah blah. Yeah, that's it. **

**Alright so, I'm a bit busy this October, let's blame my bloody school, but I'm sorry to say that this story won't be updated that frequently! I know it sucks, but it's only for October!**

**Keep reviewing! How about 20 and I'll try to update tomorrow?**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Do you guys like sit and count reviews to see whether I've gotten 20? Well, I got 21! Good going guys :)**

**Treaanne- First reviewer! Hi! Need a Haleb interaction? How about THE VERY NEXT CHAPTER!  
kiaraxo- Well, it's time for a wee bit of girl time, but I promise you, Haleb is coming up! and thank you!  
AL3110- Aw, I hope you're feeling better sweetie! I'm pretty down now too :/ well, this chapter is pure Spencer/Hanna, so rejoice!  
Sarah- Well, that was an amazing review! Okay, this chapter will ease the mood, slightly. Honestly? I'm a Emily/Samara fan. I mean, Paige tried to DROWN her for Christ's sake. Haha, trust me, after school there's sports, and after that there's your social life, and it's all so, ARGH.  
ninjagojay246- Thanks for the review!  
Haleblover13- Haleb is up in the next chapter! Keep calm.  
Ashley- How about we settle for some team Spanna now, and haleb up next, whaddya say?  
ImDreamingofLife- Wow, thank you!  
Ayoungnovelist- Well other than the stuff she took away with her, Ashley had to get rid of the rest. I mean, what would the people think if Ashley kept her "dead" daughter's things intact?  
Eruwaedhiel- Thank you for the review! And as for the stories! They're at the bottom! Check them out there.  
britneymartina- That's commitment. In one day? Aww. Thank you.  
hufflepuffhaleb- GoT is the bomb. Fav character?** **Daenerys Targaryen, hands down. Tow words, SEX BOMB. When you look at her you don't see it, but dayum, with her acting, that girl could turn me.  
Diana- Thank you! I mention some stories at the bottom! Check them out!  
HALEBisDABomb- Firstly, I agree with your username. And secondly, you were!  
Poemsforwriters- You're right. It was a deal. Here's an update!**

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_"The greatest weapon anyone can use against us is our own mind… …by preying on the doubts and uncertainties that already lurk there. Are we true to ourselves, or do we live for the expectations of others? And if we are open and honest… …can we ever truly be loved? Can we find the courage to release our deepest secrets? Or, in the end, are we all unknowable? Even to ourselves? In revenge, as in life, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In the end, the guilty always fall."_

_- Emily Thorne (Amanda Clarke). Revenge._

* * *

_For Foxy.  
"You never know what you have until it's gone."  
(2000 - 2013). RIP._

* * *

She takes Spencer to her newly established room, shows her around, explains to her about her meager possession, her summery, seasonal closet. She doesn't tell her part of the reason she has so little clothes is because she filled half a suitcase with pictures of them, of Caleb.

"Well, you're up for some serious shopping you poor clothes-less girl!" says Spencer and Hanna has to laugh. She's missed her best friend, along with her dry humor. For the past seven months, Spencer had been different, she wasn't Spencer. And boy, it felt good to get her back again.

"Wanna join me?" Hanna asks with a spark in her eyes, hoping she's still as good at reading Spencer and predicting her answers as she once used to be. Hoping that Spencer's change in behaviour for seven months wasn't permanent.

"Of course! Next Saturday?" Spencer says, way too enthusiastically. It causes Hanna to laugh some more.

It feels good to laugh again.

Hanna shrugs at last. "If you're free? It's not like I have to be anywhere." They both fall silent after that. Because yes, she's nearly forgotten, basking in the return of Spencer's friendship, she's still as school- and jobless as before.

"It's a date," says Spencer after a beat, smiling broadly, her hand coming to squeeze Hanna's forearm and the brunette smiles wildly back.

"I missed you," she blabbers out unable to stop herself and her cheeks flush with her boldness. She isn't usually this open, not even with Spencer. A soft, appreciating smile stretches through Spencer's face before her eyes stray somewhere behind Hanna.

"I mean, I missed this side of you." She pauses, "While we were there."

"_I_ wasn't obviously the only one you were missing," she says slyly and Hanna turns her head, momentarily confused at the meaning behind Spencer words.

_Oh._

They are standing in front of Hanna's bookshelf, her only one now, filled with the books she brought home with her from school. But other than that, on the book shelf hung numerous pictures of her and Caleb together. And next to it, his letter. Her heart twitches in her chest.

She wishes she could reply something coherent to Spencer, anything really, but the words are stuck in her throat, air still in her chest.

"Speaking of which," says Spencer softly, having obviously caught up at Hanna's sudden stiffness, "why wasn't Caleb here with us today?"

She doesn't answer immediately, just runs her hand over the spines of the pictures, the gesture both, subconscious and affectionate. It's not that she doesn't have an answer, oh she has one alright. She is just unable to give it. A deep sigh leaves her lips when she walks over to the bed, her hands gripping the mattress tightly as she sits down heavily, the curtain of her hair falling around her face like a shield as she bows her head.

"I've already spoken to him. A couple of days ago," she utters quietly, waiting for Spencer's reprimand of her tardiness in telling the rest of them. It never comes. Instead, the mattress dips next to her, a hand coming to rest over her clenched one.

"From your reaction, I assume he didn't take it quite so well," she observes tentatively.

"It was a disaster," Hanna blurts out, feeling that familiar tremor in her chest.

"Oh Hanna, I'm so sorry," Sighs Spencer. "But you have to understand, it's a huge thing to take in all at once," she says soothingly and if she weren't so crushed by the memory, Hanna would have actually smiled at the sudden switch in Spencer's alliance. "Let's be honest Han," Spencer continues in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, "if it were the other way around, if _he_ faked his dead and came to you a year later with a '_Honey, I'm home_', you'd shoot him where he stood with a gun, wouldn't you?"

"I don't have a gun," replies Hanna dryly, but the mental image makes her snigger. Yes, she'd definitely first kill him and then ask questions. Still, there is more to the matter, far more than Spencer is aware of, and it makes Hanna's amusement disappear in a second.

Spencer must sense the change in mood, for she squeezes Hanna's hand, speaking in a light tone; "Don't worry. The boys will come around, both of them. Just give them some time and you'll have Caleb following you around in no time again."

"No Spencer, you don't understand," says Hanna, sighing deeply as she brings her hand up to brush her hair behind her ear in an absent-minded gesture. She looks at her friend, gives her a pointed look and Spencer falls silent, expectant.

"I…we…" Hanna starts and stops again.

'_We were meant for each other ', 'He loved me', 'I still love him'_,is on the tip of her tongue, but the words won't come out that way. "It's not the same, Spencer. Not the same as it is with everyone else," she says, deciding for the longer route of explaining.

"I know Hanna. Hell, we _all_ know," Spencer says quietly, gently, squeezing Hanna's hand. "The guy has feelings for you, _huge_ feelings. And so do you. So okay, it's gonna be a bit rocky and tough for a while, but it's not like you guys haven't faced hard situations before," she offers gently, and the compassion mixed with conviction in her tone makes Hanna's heart nearly burst with grief, because Spencer's trying so hard but she doesn't know half the story. Hanna shakes her head anew, wills the lump in her throat away.

"No Spencer, there's something you don't know," she says, and she turns her head to look at her friend at last. "He offered to go with me," she offers wistfully. "Before I disappeared. He told me he loved me and I promised him that I would be back for lunch. And then he asked whether I needed him to come."

The silence that follows is ear-splitting. Spencer's eyes grow wide, her mouth forming a little 'o'. When Hanna won't say more, Spencer takes it upon herself to press her friend for more information.

"You gotta explain far more than _that_, Han," says Spencer warningly, her body bouncing on the mattress, turning fully towards Hanna. "What did you say to him?" she exclaims.

Hanna winces at Spencer's words, looking a bit hurt. All she can remember now are his hot lips pressed against the column of her throat, his quiet declarations in the middle of the night, that twinkle in his eye when he brought her coffee in the morning, shockingly shy and delighting in the fact that she was wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before. Obviously, her brain decided to displace all other, less ideal memories from her mind for the time being.

"It was the morning when you sent me the SOS text, and I was going to leave," utters Hanna at last, willing Spencer to do all the necessary connections. "We were fine that morning. We had the night together, and we were going to have the entire day". Hanna paused, wiping a lone tear from her eye. "The previous night, he told me he loved me then, told me he couldn't bear watch me run straight into harm's way again, would do anything to save me, anything."

"Oh Hanna, sweetie," says Spencer, squeezing her hand again. "What did you do?"

Hanna gives her a sad smile. "You know me," she shrugs helplessly, a self-deprecating snort escaping her lips, "I refused to acknowledge anything he said, shut him out instead." She watches Spencer's eyebrows rise, surprise yet comprehension on her friend's face.

"It was too much for you," her friend says, tries to guess her motives, "Hearing him say that he would do anything for you." But Hanna merely shakes her head.

"It's wasn't even the first time he told me," she utters sadly, and her voice is so quiet now Spencer has to strain her ears to hear her at all.

"_What?_" Spencer exclaims and her voice bounces around the small bedroom. "Hanna Marin, you better start talking now!"

So Hanna tells her. About their nights together. About how when she was axious to meet his parents, Caleb comforted her, stating that if they didn't like her, the two of them could run off into the sunset. About how when he got shot, and she blamed herself for it, he said that he would do it again, all for her. Everything. How she left his place the next morning with the promise of an early return only to have his world ripped apart a couple hours later by staging her own death.

Sometimes during her speech the tears start to fall again and Hanna wonders where the hell they keep coming from, she should be completely depleted of them by now. Spencer tightly grips her hand, listening quietly as she lets her friend talk.

"No wonder the poor guys was so devastated," Spencer says thoughtfully during one of Hanna's hiccup pauses, running gentle circles over her friends back. Hanna really wishes they'd stop saying that, all of them, how much her lie has hurt him. It just tears at her heart that much more.

"Spencer I swear, I didn't want to do it, didn't want to put him through that, especially not after…" her voice cracks, "But they gave us no choice. A going wild meant open season on our life. And I knew he would try anything in his power to protect me. I couldn't let him try to protect me and possibly take the next bullet for me, again" she ended on a sob, seeing the devastation on Spencer's face, knowing it was mirroring her own.

The Hastings hugged her then, strong and fierce. "I'm so sorry sweetie, for the both of you."

It took Hanna a couple of moments to pull herself together somewhat, finally disentangling from Spencer and sending her a rueful smile.

"So what exactly happened between the two of you when you saw him again?" inquires Spencer.

Hanna gives another sad smile. "He was confused, shocked beyond speech, Spencer. And then livid. But that was understandable, I was expecting that," she starts, her eyes unfocused as she remembers. "But it's what he said later, when he wasn't that angry anymore, when he knew exactly what he was saying."

"Said what?" Spencer prompts.

"Basically that he was over me," said Hanna with a heartbreaking tremulous smile, her voice choked and eyes watery, "That my lie forced him to move on." She turned her head away from Spencer, unable to take the twinkle of shock there. "I've lost him Spencer. I've waited too long and then I screwed it up even more. You were right, all along, he can't wait for me forever." She's twisting her hands on her lap again.

"But I told him I loved him," says Hanna and there is a twinge of pride in her voice. "Told him that I'd be waiting for him if he ever changed his mind." She can feel one of Spencer's hands cover hers and she squeezes in return. "But I don't know Spencer," Hanna draws a deep breath, steadying her voice, "I really think…I really think I might have lost him for good," she admits, shaking her head in frustration.

"Nuh-uh!" disagrees Spencer, "there is no way that man is over you, not after the way he smashed himself over you at the Christmas party not even a month ago. My mom told me, she said that he was devastated, and that he needed you so bad, it was heart wrenching. Hell, your own mother had to put him in the cab while he was still babbling and moaning your name." She means the words as a pick-me-up, but they seem to have the exact opposite effect on Hanna as Spencer would have hoped.

"And then there is that." Hanna speaks quietly once she manages to school the sickened expression away from her face. "I mean, even if he could somehow forgive me, get over the lie, whenever I think about what that lie's done to him…how I'll always be just a reminder of that horrible time to him, I can't see how this can ever work. How he could one day wake in the morning, look into my face and _not_ see me for what I represented to him for the past couple of months, the source of his worst anguish and suffering. Maybe," Hanna suggests tentatively, "Maybe it's better this way."

"No way Hanna Marin, you don't get to do that," hisses Spencer and Hanna's taken aback by the anger in her friend's voice.

"You don't get to quit on him by justifying why it were better if the two of you weren't together, why it's better this way. It would be only too easy to agree it was for the best, but it's not. You claim you love that man and you're already giving up on him? Just because the first time he saw you after seven months thinking you were dead he didn't fall to his knees in silent prayer but instead said certain things he didn't even mean?" Hanna starts to shake her head in protest, but Spencer will have none of it. "They've watched that man fall into pieces over you, and told me and I am sure he's currently completely overwhelmed and confused with the information he's been given, so he'll need time, which, as you said, you are willing to give him. And one day, that lie won't sting so much and the loss won't feel so bad and that's the day he will show up at your doorstep seeking answers and that's the moment Hanna Marin - and you listen very carefully to me now - that's the moment the real work will only start for you. Because he'll still be broken but you'll make damn sure to be there for him, you hear me? You'll be there for him in any capacity he'll need you and you'll offer to him whatever he might need to get over this. And you will do so not because you think you _owe_ him but because you still love him, even despite the fact that he's probably a little changed and even despite the fact that he went through a crippling trauma. This man you claim to love is now hurting as hell and in desperate need for your help. And you are going to give it to him, whatever it takes, so he can heal, so you _both_ can heal. Because aunt Spencer will want to get to be a bridesmaid and a God mother to those awfully annoying, smart, foul-mouthed and utterly adorable kids you guys will one day have, you get me?" she finishes, nearly sizzling with her zest to bring her point across.

Hanna looks at her friend, taking in her words. Her chest expands with warmth at Spencer's protectiveness towards Caleb, Spencer carrying about him so much she feels the need to advocate for him, but the very thought of that giant hurdle lying ahead of her leaves Hanna's feeling more than a little spend and tired all of a sudden. She gives Spencer a small sad smile and a tiny nod that doesn't seem to convince her friend. Spencer switches to a more serious tone, repeating her words to Hanna in a slower, more moderate manner. "Hanna honey, I know you feel bad. Hell, they've all been giving us hell for lying to them, but they've just been angry. Deep down, they all know – or soon enough will understand - that we had no choice. And that we did it to protect them. Is that correct?" Spencer asks, watching Hanna's eyes glass over, head nodding vigorously.

"I know you feel guilty, for what you made him go through, how much pain you've put him through. But Hanna, if you really want to help him, possibly want to try to have a real relationship with him, Hanna sweetie, you have to _stop_ guilting yourself about it. You said it yourself, that lie kept him protected and safe, so there's nothing you should be feeling guilty about, even if everybody else said differently. That lie possibly saved his life. So when he comes around, and trust me sweetie, there's no way in hell he _won't_ knock at your door some time in the next few days, simply _be there_ for him. Do what is necessary for him to trust you again, trust the world again, help him in any way you can," Spencer's voice has taken on a soothing quality, soft and warm and caring, and it feels like a balm over Hanna's jagged heart. "Just don't let that trauma drag you both down the rabbit hole. One of you needs to be the strong one, and because Caleb is really in no position to be that one right now, it's gotta be your job to keep the two of you above water." Spencer falls silent after that, bringing a hand to stroke Hanna's cheek. The gesture feels so good it causes Hanna's eyes to close. "You two will help each other, okay?" adds Spencer, bringing her friend close into a hug. They stay like that for a couple of moments, Hanna simply enjoying the warm embrace from another caring person. She was never a hugger, but she seriously contemplates becoming one now, if it only means she'll get to feel this good again.

"Thank you, Spencer," whispers Hanna into Spencer's hair. "I really needed the girl talk," she says with a tiny hint of amusement in her voice. Spencer withdraws and eyes her, long and hard, then breaks into a grin of her own. "Any time girl. Now, in the meantime, we _so_ need to do something about that wardrobe of yours." Hanna huffs a laugh at that, nods her head in agreement.

They make plans, arrange a shopping trip next Saturday when Spencer won't be busy, doing some work, that Hanna doesn't even begin to understand. It feels good. It feels like being alive again, feels like having friends, a _life_, again.

As they part at the door, Hanna turns on her spot, regarding Spencer with something akin of mischief in her eye.

"One more thing, Spencer. If I were you, I wouldn't worry about Toby too much." she says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, going for mysterious but laughing out loud when spotting Spencer's eyes go huge and then grow amused by her words. "She winks at Spencer. "So no need to worry about him, because I'll make damn sure he comes around, even if it's the last thing I'll ever do," she says with a confident grin and Spencer returns it with a one of her own.

She shuts the door behind Spencer's sauntering form, leaning her back against its solid wood. She is surprised to find a grin still plastered over her face. Maybe not all is lost after all.

* * *

_People are fond of saying that you can't un-ring a bell. And while that may be true, you can certainly smother its ring under the dull roar of conjecture and lies. But some words ring out like church bells, rising above the din, calling us to the truth. Some words are immortal. Long-buried or even burned, they're destined to be reborn, like a phoenix from the ashes. And when they do, it can literally take your breath away._

_- Emily Thorne (Amanda Clarke). Revenge._

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**A/N: Reviews are like the smell of coffee when you have a hangover, so helpful!**

**So a lot of you guys have asked what are the good haleb stories on here, and well, I can't choose! Everyone has their own writing style, and they all are amazing.**

**But if I had to choose, I would tell you guys to check out tvfreak13, pll. Katie, CalebAndHannaforever, coldplaysout out. They are amazing. Especially tvfreak13. Love her. Also, PrettyLittleWriter29 is amazing. CrystalizedXX has two amazing stories called "Remember Me" and "Infinite." Of course, Ayoungnovelist has these amazing stories going on, especially "Four Years" and "Seriously Haleb". NicciCastillo is the author for "Pregnant Little Liars". There's treaane, and "Hide Away" and "don't Blink" and "We Fall together". HastyHastings has a couple of oneshots too. OOH, "Coming Clean" loved that one, "Sneaking Around", "Damaged Expectations", "Distractions", "Dong Po", "Never Leaving", "Caleb in 3x10", "Sunburn", "Always With You", "Revelations" OMG, "Still Of the Night." Loved that. And well, I don't mean to advertise myself but I do have four other stories on here! "A Broken Wrist" is something I worked really hard on! **

**It's all so amazing, and I've read every haleb fic on this site, so check out my favorites list for more. Okay, also some of them are rated M.**

**20 reviews, and the next chapters up! HALEB REUNION up next! Review away!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Do you guy really think I'd withhold a chapter for reviews?! Tbh, had a HUGE writer's block for this one! :/ Also, I forgot like 2 stories last time! Check out LoneGypsy's profile! And also, check out BlackBaby and her story "Rivers & Co."**

**Hufflepuffhaleb- Late nights huh? Well, just don't blame me later! HALEB REUNION!  
AL3110- Would it be really upsetting to you if I told you that I didn't listen to Taylor? Bit metal/rock fan here! And I hope you're feeling A-okay now!  
ImDreamingAboutLife- Seriously, BEST REVIEW EVER! PoemReview! EEP! Loved it girl, thanks so much. Air you breathe, I'm so touched right now :3  
Giulia- Wow..that was just such an amazing review, thank you so much! And don't worry, Grammar's a really ass. But those words! Oh my god, it just means so much to me that you're enjoying this, and I just, I can't even describe how happy I am knowing that you're Italian. I mean, to know that people all around the world are enjoying my stories, I just can't even deal with it.  
Pllstorylover- TEAM SPANNRILLY FOREVER!  
britneymartina- TEAM SPANNA, FTWW! Love them to bits.  
kiaraxo- Aw, I'm so glad you liked it!  
prettylittlehaleblover- Adiction? No, just real haleb love! And for Spaleb? I LOVE SPALEB! Stay tuned ;)  
Sarah- So, um Spanna over Sparia? Haha, Spencer and Vanderjesus. GENIUS! And stay tuned, the next two chapters are purely HALEB!  
treaanne- You and me both, Spanna is amazing.  
BlackBaby- Team Spaleb is just amazing, love them to pieces. Thanks for the review!  
NicciCastillo- Ugh, Revenge. Talk about good TV. And you deserve that little shout out!  
Haleblover13- Thank you! Spanna forever!  
Ayoungnovelist- I KNOW RIGHT! I loved writing it too, it came to me so naturally.  
Eruwaedhiel- Thank you! I love Team Spanna! All those stories are amazing :)  
Diana- Haha, yeah, don't worry, I'm updating.  
Haleblover13- It's here kiddo, it's here.  
ImDreamingAboutLife- UPDATE!**

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_"Grief may be a thing we all have in common , but it looks different on everyone. It isn't just death we have to grieve. It's life. It's loss. It's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much. Grief comes in its own time for everyone in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes. And let it go when we can. The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away. There are five stages of grief. They look difference on all of us, but there are always five. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance."_

_-Arizona Robbins, Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, Derek Shepard, Meredith Grey, Cristina Yang, Owen Hunt, Miranda Bailey, Richard Webber, Isobel Stevens, Lexie Grey & Alex Karev. Grey's Anatomy._

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_"Did you miss me?" He asks her, a light smirk on his face. His fingertips skimming her thighs, his body moving closer, propping her up onto his kitchen counter._

_"Of course I did." Hanna giggled. God, she missed him more than anything on the planet. She couldn't survive without him, not even for a week. Her fingers are tangled in his hair, and she suddenly pulls him closer to her, closing the distance between their lips. _

_He responds quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist, giving into his cravings. Boy, he had missed this. He loved Montecito, he really did. Getting to know his mom was amazing, and spending time with James and Clay always was a hit. But none of them were Hanna. _

_Hanna was something different to him, something better, a once-in-a-lifetime something. _

_Hanna pulled away first, staring into his chocolate pools. _

_"Promise me something."_

_Caleb crinkled his forehead, suddenly concerned, "What?"_

_"Promise me that you'll never leave, ever." She paused, her fingers roaming his chest. She stared into his eyes, before softly saying_

_"Promise me that you'll never leave me."_

_Caleb didn't quite know where this was coming from, or from what. He simple nodded, "I promise." He leant forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead._

_"I'll never leave."_

* * *

It takes nearly a week until he finally finds the courage to face her again. He comes unannounced, appearing at Ashley Marin's door one chilly Wednesday afternoon, suddenly unsure whether he should have called first. Maybe they aren't even home.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Caleb brings his hand up and knocks on the front door somewhat hesitantly, the gesture lacking his usual flair and resolve.

He waits and waits, but nothing happens. It appears that indeed, nobody is home. He's surprised to find himself disappointed. He turns on his spot, looking around. He's suddenly stuck with the thought, why would Ashley want to live here? Over the past few years, all this place had given her was grief, pain, sadness. First Alison, then Maya. Not to mention the police, the arrests, the lies, the secrets, it's all with this house. It's quiet here though, peaceful, and somehow calming and Caleb can understand why Ashley would pick to live here.

Snow started falling to the ground again sometime last evening, and whereas it poses just a nuance that gets kicked to the curb in a dirty wet heap as quickly as possible in Montecito, here it covers the ground in a nice, soft white layer. The light is already disappearing quickly, it's something after four in the afternoon and Caleb knows that darkness will fall soon.

He doesn't move, stands there, still looking around, contemplative. He's been here numerous times, but somehow, it's suddenly all new to him.

A tiny rattle of a key in a lock from behind makes him jump and turn just in time to see the door creek open an inch, then a little wider. The sleepy, disheveled head of Ashley Marin appears soon after, her eyes puffy from what appears to be sleep.

"I thought I heard a knock," says Ashley victoriously, shooting a warming smile at Caleb and his stomach, for whatever reason, flips over. The door opens wider in an inviting gesture and with hands still hidden deeply in his coat's pockets, Caleb finally enters.

He stands in a dark corridor for a short moment until a lamp flickers to life over them, bathing the place in warm, welcoming yellow light. Caleb looks around her curiously, cannot help himself, carefully taking everything in, all at once, it's been so long since he's been in here, and yet it doesn't seemed to have changed a tiny bit. Ashley's extended hand nudges his arm and he realizes he's been rudely staring and gawking around the lady's place for quite a while. He clears his throat, shakes Ashley's hand while feeling a little embarrassed, but Ashley merely smiles, inviting him further into the house.

It still looks the same. He didn't know what to expect, but it looked the exact same.

Ashley sits down into one of the armchairs, mutes the television, a rerun of a common soap opera, then points to another armchair directly from hers.

"Please Caleb, sit."

Caleb shrugs off his coat and sits as he is told, feeling only slightly awkward. "I was wondering if I could see Hanna," he suddenly blurts out, shutting his eyes in embarrassment at the eagerness in his voice, cursing his quick mouth for the umpteenth time.

Ashley doesn't seem to mind his obviously rude demeanor one bit. She only nods slowly, contemplatively. "Of course," she says. "She is not home at the moment, though."

She tries to hide her happiness. But suddenly, there's a ray of hope that he's back. That with him, she'll be back too.

"Oh," Caleb replies, lost for any other answer. Something in Ashley's squirming posture unsettles him. "I hope everything's alright," he adds, uneasiness filling his insides.

"Oh, yes," answer Ashley, but she won't meet his eyes.

"Where is she?" asks Caleb, not even concerned if he sounds edgy or rude. He just wants his answer. Because she is alright, right? She's fine, he tells himself. Ashley must catch on his nervousness, for she hastens with an answer.

"Oh no, no worries Caleb, Hanna's alright. She just went to see…an old friend," she says after a short pause and something in Caleb's chest flares to life. An old friend?

"Oh," he grunts dumbly again, the tone of his voice and piercing look more of a challenge than a polite, slightly disinterested reply he wishes she was able to give. Ashley sags a little in her chair, averts her eyes.

"She went to see her therapist," she says with a defeated posture and Caleb can distinguish a slight trace of regret and deep-seeded sadness in the woman's words. "See, yesterday was the mark of eight months since she….," She pauses, "since she supposedly 'died' " she adds quietly, her eyes glistering in the dark. And just like that, that fierce fire Caleb now recognizes as stupid, unfounded jealously is put out in a flash. And he feels ashamed.

"I'm so sorry Ashley," he says, his words never feeling more inadequate. Ashley just shrugs, gives Caleb a tired, sad smile. 'What can you do?' it says. Caleb wishes there was something he could do.

"I'm glad she went," says Ashley, "I think it will help her clear her head." Again, she appears to shrug the matter off nonchalantly, but Caleb recognizes the resignation of somebody who tried and failed to help a loved one. So he just nods his head back at Ashley, despite the fact that it makes him feel like a complete idiot. He's sitting in front of this woman, who's offered him so much comfort and caring words over the past couple of months, now completely unable to offer any kind of verbal or other comfort in return. And it makes him feel even worse. After all, he's supposed to be the one with the kind heart. He nearly scoffs at that thought. Some kind heart he has.

"She should be home any time now though, probably just took her time to return from the city. The lines aren't always too reliable in this cold."

Caleb wants to ask about her car, and why she's using public transportation, something he's never seen her do before, but he bites his tongue. "Can I offer you something to drink while we wait? Tea, coffee, water?" asks Ashley and Caleb finds he's indeed rather thirsty.

"Some tea would be nice," he says, surprising himself with his choice of drink.

"Be right up. Make yourself comfortable," says Ashley, leaving the room in a few brisk strides.

He sits there, a bit awkward, the coat still resting in his lap, lost as to what to do with himself. His eyes once again stray to the small bookcase in the far corner of the room, something he's never really noticed before. When he was in this room, he didn't always do a lot of observing. It was his time with Hanna, and she seemed to be worthy of his entire attention. He just jumps up from his seat, crossing the room quickly until he's standing right in front on the few shelves. There are not more than fifty books here, a rather small collection. All in really old bindings though. He runs his fingers over their spines, can't help but notice at once that they've all been dusted off only recently, probably moved and shifted in their places too.

Hanna. Something in his heart seems to melt at the thought, at even such a small gesture.

It's a good feeling. His mind conjures up an image in which Hanna, wearing nothing but a long button down – one of his – disheveled hair and rosy cheeks, bare footly tiptoes across his apartment, perusing some book for the next English class, her long delicate fingers caressing the spine of her book, carefully looking from one page to the other, smiling at what she might like.

A surge of longing flares in his chest at that, the chilling icy knot in the pit of his stomach that was his constant companion over the past few months, starting to melt at that picture. He suddenly realizes how much he wants to have it, how he can have it, if he'll find it in his heart to forgive her, to trust her again, to move on. He sighs, wishing it was only that simple.

He hears shuffling behind his back and he quickly turns to watch Ashley return with a tray holding two cups of steaming tea and a matching sugar bowl resting in the middle. She uses old fashioned china, Caleb notices, and he feels warmth spread through his chest at the sight, for more than one reason.

He returns to his place, sits down into his designated armchair, waits for Ashley to serve him his tea, then adds two spoons of sugar himself. He seems to enjoy sugar, lots of sugar, again. He stirs the liquid, which emits a calming, herbal smell.

"Hanna's favorite, chamomile and hibiscus," says Ashley, as if reading Caleb's thoughts and Caleb feels his cheeks flush.

They sit there for quite a while, sipping their coffee and talking about the soap currently running in the background on Ashley's TV. They both know it's nothing like the comfortable conversations they used to share in the previous months, but they are both trying, and it feels good. It's nearly half past five when they hear the front door finally open and shut with a low thud. Caleb's cup rattles in its china saucer as he hastily plops it back down, his nerves suddenly frayed. She's home, Hanna's here.

"Hanna?" her mother shouts into the dim corridor; she didn't switch on the light.

"Not now, mom," she calls back softly and there's a strange strain and tired quality to her voice, like she is very close to crying. They can hear her scuffle around the place, getting off her shoes and coat before they can hear the creak of the stairs. Panic surges through Caleb. It feels strangely, irrationally, like she's leaving again, running away.

"There is somebody here to see you," Ashley softly calls after her, her voice holding that hopeful quality Caleb came to admire, and the creaking of the stairs stops immediately. There is a pause, silence, then the stairs resume their annoying noises, quicker and louder now. Her feet hit the ground and he knows she's in the corridor, will appear in the doorway any time now. His heart picks up its tempo.

She must pause her quick strides in front of the room, because she comes inside with careful, slow steps, her eyes finding first her mother, and then finally turning to Caleb. The world seems to stop for a moment as they gaze at each other.

"Caleb," she finally says on a slightly desperate exhale, her voice more than a little breathless. It makes him feel oddly gratified.

"Hey," he utters back quietly. They stay like that for a moment, then, "I was wondering if we could talk," he offers as he finds his voice again, his tone an insecure suggestion. It seems to snap her out of her shock.

"Yeah, of course," she says, stumbling over her words in her haste, "C'mon," she says, gesturing for him to follow her, shooting a questioning look to her mother, who only nods his head at her in return.

Caleb jumps up from his seat, still holding his coat in his hands, looking at her expectantly and quickly following her when she turns to leave the room. It feels so familiar, the following, it brings an involuntary grin to his face, a giddy feeling of excitement. They walk back through the corridor silently and step up that awfully shrieking stairwell. The same stairwell where he first fell in love with her. They come to a door in front of which she stops all of a sudden. She looks back at him, her eyes huge, suddenly unsure. Vulnerable.

He realizes then, this must be her haven now, her kingdom, her new home. And she is unsure to share it with him. His heart sinks in his chest but even still, he says; "It's alright. You don't have to… we can go out, sit somewhere." The words are lame, but they at least manage to offer a way out for her. She contemplates him for a while, her once bright eyes dimmed, whether from the darkness of the corridor or something much deeper he's not sure.

"It's alright," she says on a whisper, and something tight and painful unfurls inside of him, allowing him to breathe more freely. She turns the doorknob and resolutely opens the door for them, their gaze never breaking.

They step into the room and he cannot help but look around curiously, fascinated.

He's been in her room before, in all of these rooms, in fact. He's seen her room, eight months ago. But somehow after those eight months, something about this room, this single room now comes to represent her whole life now, breathing Hanna's name in thick, condensed waves, makes it nearly surreal.

She's changed it completely. It's all so different. Suddenly his heart flutters. What if she's changed too? What if she too, is different now?

He steps further into the room, Hanna momentarily forgotten in favor of her own mini-world. It's simple, neat, tidy. Not overstuffed; the huge beautiful rectangular window at the far end of the room providing it with an airy quality. There is a bed, a desk and a chair. A door probably leading to a closet, another to an adjacent bathroom. He soaks it all up, this private world of Hanna, something he was so scared he would never get a glimpse of ever again.

The room is nice indeed, and God it even smells like her, is thick with the scent he's come to associate with her over the year. And then it's the small details that make it so much like Hanna that he notices. A nice warm duvet covering the bed with a couple of funky, patch-work pillows. A huge world map that looks like it has seen better days – oh there is a story there, he is sure of it – plastered over half of the wall behind it. A nice inconspicuous lamp near the window, shadowing an old armchair – ha, a 'magazine' nook - or so she liked to call it – and an ancient wooden clock sitting on the very end on a book shelf, filled with books and…his heart stops.

Half of it is filled with his pictures, or rather, their pictures together

Only then does he realize what this is, what she's really allowed him to see, what this room represents. He turns back to her, overwhelmed into speechlessness. She is standing there, quietly observing him, appearing peaceful if not for the twitchy, nervous quality in her hands as she keeps twining and twisting her fingers into the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes are glistering in the light of the room, two open pools, quiet and willing him to see everything she's been hiding for so long. And he doesn't know what to do with it, this sudden gift of her.

He isn't used to this Hanna, to such openness, such trust. He turns back to the room instead, his eyes taking everything in, this time with a less frenzied zeal. He doesn't want to appear as a complete creep after all. He forces his eyes from the bookshelf despite his every nerve screaming in the urge to rush over there, decides he'll let her decide when or even if she wants to show him that or not, a small gesture of his own, in return for allowing him into her most private space.

He hangs his coat onto the chair at the desk, rubs his hands absentmindedly before he turns back to her. "Nice room," is the only stupid thing that comes to his mind to say.

Surprisingly, she cracks a smile. The whole room seems to light up with that one little twitch of her lips and he is once again struck speechless. Oh how he's missed that smile.

She shrugs, the smile still playing over her lips, her eyes shying away at last. "Did the best I could." She shrugs again, self-conscious.

"I think it's perfect," he says with more than a little enthusiasm, once again forgetting to filter his brain, mentally kicking himself. But if her accompanying smile is anything to come by, it was the right thing to say.

"Thank you."

He allows his eyes to run over her, once again. After their fiasco of a reunion a week ago, Caleb realized he barely took the time to properly look over her then. He misses it, the ability to do so, to observe her freely, sometimes on the receiving end of an answering scowl, sometimes a challenging smirk. He observes her now and she lets him, he can clearly see that, that she is letting him, despite feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Her mother was right. She must have lost at least ten pounds, her cheekbones protruding more than ever, more than when she came back to school after he was shot. She looks small, short without her power heels. And pale, definitely too pale, her skin sinewy, with dark smudges under her eyes. Her once vibrant curly hair is hanging limply around her face, supplying her with an unhealthy, ghastly look. Still, she is his Hanna, the woman he…he what? Loved? Buried? Mourned? Still loves? He doesn't know anymore.

"Caleb, you are staring," she says reprimanding, though her voice is soft, unsure and self-conscious, her body squirming under his scrutiny. He realizes then how highly uncomfortable he must be making her.

"Sorry," he utters apologetically, ungluing his eyes from her face at last. His eyes fall to her attire instead, the odd assortment of what he knows as her seasonal clothes and it makes him wonder. The light sweater she is wearing is slightly damp and as his eyes fall to her feet, he notices them to be wet too.

"Your socks are soaked," he observes curiously, unable to hold that strange thought to himself. She shifts from foot to foot, then finally crosses the room, walks over to a chest of drawers near the window to pull out a new pair.

"I know," she huffs annoyed, and Caleb notes she sounds more like the old Marin that he has yet heard her. It has a surprisingly soothing effect on him. "I only have a pair of summer boots but since they are, obviously, meant for summer, they soak in a matter of minutes. I haven't had time to go buy myself proper winter shoes yet," she says with a slight frown, so matter-of-factly as if it were completely natural for him to hear these things. She must catch herself just then, because she turns to him then, gives him a sheepish look, her cheeks tingeing red.

"I haven't really packed for winter," she explains quietly, plopping down onto her bed and pulling off her drenched socks to change into the new pair, so naturally in front of him as if she were doing this every day. It steals his breath away.

"Why not?" he asks stupidly, the only thing to pop into his mind, his eyes still fixated on her dry-sock-clad feet.

Her face grows soft, more tender. "I never planned on being away for so long," she replies softly.

"I know," he quickly intercedes. He doesn't want her to feel bad over that, her mother's explained already so much. "What I meant is why didn't you take more of your clothes with you? If they were going to destroy your apartment, you could have taken more, so you didn't need to restock so much later," he explains, feeling somewhat dumb.

"There is only so much you can pack into two suitcases in fifteen minutes, Caleb," she says calmly but her words serve as a punch to the gut. He stares at her and she stares right back, lips pursed, understanding his train in thought, confirming it with her silence. He's the first to look away.

So this is how it's been for her. Fifteen minutes to wrap her whole life up in two suitcases. He has no idea what he would have taken given the same option. What would he pack? Money? Papers? The contents of his bedside drawer? No use. Clothes, sure, some. And toiletries, the first things to naturally jump to your mind when packing for a trip. But he was going to stay longer, be more lonely. And the place would be gone once he came back, all the possessions along with it. What else would he take? His thoughts go immediately to his family. Pictures, albums. Yes, that's what he would take, pictures of him and his mother, maybe some of his father. He has a chest hidden in his desk. Yeah, he would definitely take that box with him.

His cunning mind is really good at this. Considering he's already wasted nine minutes on this, what else would he take?

Some of his work? His laptop? Maybe.

How about something from the school? Of his friends? Hanna? What could he take of Hanna? He doesn't even have a picture, other than the tattered one in his drawer, and on his phone, and that would probably get confiscated anyway. He feels himself panic. How could she have decided? How could she have decided when she was allowed to take only so little, in even less time? A surge of regret, envy and pride rises in him for the fact that she was able to do it.

A hand touches his forearm, a soft hand, breaking him from his reverie. He jumps back, jerks his arms away as if burned, watches the shadow of hurt steal over her face before it's gone in a second, her expression perfectly smooth again.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks, but doesn't attempt to touch him again. He doesn't know whether to be glad or sorry.

"Yeah, fine, I just," he stutters, "I cannot imagine what that must have been like. How you could have done it, to decide what to take," he says, his eyes finding hers. He feels sorry for her and he wants her to see it. It's no pity, no, it's definitely not pity. But he's really sorry she had to go through that. He knows how long she searched for a new, suitable place, how happy she was when she finally found her studio, with how much care and consideration she refurnished and redecorated it.

"I'm sorry about Spencer's place," he says and mentally kicks himself again. He should really pay more attention to what he's saying.

"Yeah, so am I," she says dryly, regret dripping from her words. "But it couldn't be helped," she says shrugging non-commitally, a finality to her words. "Besides, they were only things," she adds quietly and he recognizes the undertones to what she's saying.

Only things. Not people. Not like you, like our friends. Like my father. They will be greatly missed, but not irreplaceable. Not like people.

The intensity of her look is too much and he needs to look away.

"Spencer promised me an excruciating shopping spree though," she says, some of that familiar twinkle back in her eye, "So I should have twice the amount of clothes I ever possessed in the matter of a few weeks," she says and he laughs. He actually laughs. It startles them both.

"So you are good? Spencer, the guys, I mean?" he asks after a beat, trying to return to a normal, less loaded conversation again. He feels her cringe a little, but again, she is quick to hide it.

She gives a small nod. "Spencer and I are getting there. Paige is being, well Paige. Sweet and forgiving. She was really… gracious about all this, to tell the truth." She is earnest, Caleb notes. She truly feels that having her friends forgiving her is more than she could ever ask for. "Toby however," she starts, one of her eyes involuntarily twitching, "didn't take it that well." He hears her voice lace with guilt when her eyes shy away from him. "You know, after what happened with his mom."

Right, his mom. Damn, he's forgotten about that. How in the name of God could he only forgotten about his mom? No wonder Toby is so pissed. And no wonder she feels so bad.

He steals a glance at her, observing her, using the opportunity when she isn't reciprocating his intense gaze. She looks very small. Small and tired. Lost. He feels a surge of protectiveness he was not used to in regards to her, possess him.

"Tell me more about your time away," he blurts out, a gripping need to know more about how it was for her while in hiding clenching his heart. He needs to know more. So much more.

* * *

_"I get to make my own decisions. Have my own life. Do whatever I choose. And here's the good part, so listen close. What I choose is you. You're who I want to wake up with, and got to bed with, and do everything in between with."_

_-Denny Duquette. Grey's Anatomy._

* * *

**A/N: That's right guys, I love Grey's that much! Any Grey's fans over here? Tellme in the reviews! Also, let me know if you're a Cristina/Owen shipper, cause that's another ShipSink I need to deal with, with her leaving :/**

**Guys, just review. I can't even tell you how happy it makes me to see them. But, I do need a little bit of encouragement, so okay, above 18? **

**ALSO, Favorite/Follow it! Pleeeaaseee? **

**Cue Spencer's puppy dog face.**

**XOXO  
Bagilia**


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: Soooo, is anybody still out there? In my defense, I told you guys October was bitch. I might have like forgotten to rate it on a scale of one to ten. FYI, it was 10. So, let's look at my reasons shall we? I just finished The Fault In Our Stars, and I just wanted to curl up into a ball, and cry all my angsty feels out. Also, you can't me to be all hunky-dory when I found out that my favorite character is gay. And, and and, not to mention school, and MUN and the fucking Russian Federation. But yeah, The Fault In Our Stars was mainly why. **

**So, since I'm so late, I don't think that I'll waste anymore time replying to all your reviews. BUT, most of ya'll know me and how sweet I am, so **

**Pretty. . 11 – Ohmygod, HI! Okay, so yeah, I kinda left you hanging there. Whoops. I'm back now!  
ImDreamingAboutLife- Seriously, poem reviews are the best! Sorry for the long wait.  
Sarah/eveningshades1107 ABOUT F'ING TIME! Haha, I feel so bad now, reading the review again, but, I had RunawayBaby555 let you know about my hiatus. And if ask her, she'll tell you how busy I was. So busy. And yes, keep faith! Haleb!  
tvfreak13- Yeah, well now I'm the worst person alive. :/ Totally sucks how busy life can get. And your kind words are going to kill me! You know that you're like 1000000000 times better than me, right? Gawd, the Crowen thing is KILLING me.  
AlwaysXxXx- Question, Always from HP or from Castle? And you can't just say that! WAIT! Who do you ship?! Are you a MerDer? Or a Alex/Jo? Cause they're kinda growing on me. Thank you!  
AL3110 – Well, thank you! And keep hope :)  
Ayoungnovelist – Um, well, you're gonna have to wait for it it! DON'T YOU JUST LOVE GREY'S?!  
treaanne – Keep hoping love :) Sorry for the long wait!  
Giulia- You have to stop with those kind words! It's just so heart warming to see that you're enjoying this! And I totally agree! I miss all of them on Grey's it's not going to be the same though, without Cristina. Always nice to meet GA fans! :)  
Hufflepuffhaleb – YOU WHAT? OHMYGOD, FANGIRLING, FANGIRLING, FANGIRLING! Please tell me you didn't was your hand off after that! CUMBERBITCH! It's times like these when I regret living halfway across the world. #Tragedy. And sorry for the long wait!  
Chantel0319- I love new reviewers! Updated!  
kiaraxo- sorry for the long wait!  
Reader – Thank you for your lovely words!  
RunawayBaby555- HAHAHA. Hiiii. Yeah, so you're all confused. For once, and I like it. I'm so evil. And DUH, it's Caleb, he's always sexy. He has like god structured facial bones, remember? Him, Adam, Benedict, Keegan, Ian, and Aaron. Man, lock me in a room with them. **

**So, I initially wanted to do a double update, to make you guys happy. But I'm still not that free. But I do get some time, I will :)**

* * *

_Life kicks you around sometimes. It scares you and beats you up. But there's one day when you realize you're not just a survivor, you're a fighter. You're tougher than anything life throws your way. And you are._

_- Lucas Scott. One Tree Hill_

* * *

_Tell me more about your time away," he blurts out, a gripping need to know more about how it was for her while in hiding clenching his heart. He needs to know more. So much more.  
_  
She appears surprised at his words.

She motions for him to sit down, points to the bed next to her and then the chair, letting him decide; and only now does he realize he's still standing motionless in the middle of the room. Because she's sitting on the bed, he decides to take the chair, refusing to give in to the flash of disappointment stealing across her features.

"There's really not much to tell." She shrugs non-committally, self-deprecating again, and Caleb really wishes that she'd stop doing that. She is so much more than that. "I was taken into a safe house. Still in the state, not the city. Must have been close, though, 'cause the drive was only a couple of hours." As she starts to list the details, Caleb finds himself leaning closer, sliding to sit at the very edge of his chair, wishing now that he'd chosen the spot on the bed, not wanting to miss a single word.

"I was told a little about what would happen next, was allowed to call my mother to let her know." Her voice cracks at this and she is unable to look at him, guilt written all over her face, but Caleb realizes with quiet astonishment that he doesn't really mind anymore; the fact that her mother was allowed to know and he wasn't. Ashley was probably right. If he'd have known, he may have done something stupid, drawn unwanted attention. Attention that could have gotten her killed. His stomach twists in his gut painfully. It may really have been for the best, been the safest way, even if it hurt.

"Go on," he encourages gently, and he's met with her surprised eyes, filling quickly with gratitude. But for what? His forgiveness? She had that long ago. It's the trust that's still an issue.

"I was given a room, wasn't allowed outside the house," she continues.

"For eight months?" He wheezes, his voice breathless. She shrugs again, pursing her lips. "Security reasons," she says lightly, but he can see it, that crushing weight under the pretended nonchalance, how it must have dragged her down, her forced confinement. He cannot imagine it, spending eight months in one house, in a single room. A prison. That's where she's been this whole time. And she's trying to play it down now, for him. A surge of tenderness shoots through his chest and he has to qualm the sudden urge to reach out to her, take her hand. She's looking down at the duvet now, her fingers picking at random threads, plucking them from the material.

"What did you do during all that time?" he asks, nudging her carefully with his words to continue.

"Worked the case, mainly," she says quietly. There is no victory or pride in her voice, only heavy tiredness.

"And the rest of the time?" He knows he's walking on thin ice, pressing and urging for intimate details she might not be willing to give. But he wants to know, God, he needs to know.

"Worked out," she says, but it sounds more like a question, like she's not sure about the truthfulness behind her own words. And she's still not looking at him. Her eyebrows knit together, that vein he's come to love, the one that appears whenever she's thinking about something way too hard, slicing her forehead. "There was a workout room in the basement. So I worked out. A lot. Made it easier to fall asleep at night." She utters that last bit nearly inaudibly and his breath hitches in his throat. He can hear it all, what she's not saying, what her mother has been trying to explain to him: the depression, the despair, the solitude. She's been absolutely miserable, this whole time. Miserable and lonely. His heart aches for her.

"You've lost a lot of weight," he offers quietly, meeting her surprised eyes at last.

Her face grows first warm, then tender. "So have you."

It's his turn to avert his eyes. This is not something he's proud of. It's a reminder of all those times he hit bottom, when bourbon seemed a better source of nourishment than pancakes shared with his mother, when the sweet, sugary, milky frappuccinos he used to love were traded for simple bitter black or herbal tea.

The conversation stalls after that, and he's not sure how to restart it. His eyes ultimately stalk back to her bookshelf, the pictures carrying his own face mocking him even from across the room. He wonders.

He stands from the chair then, walking to the single bookshelf in a few quick strides, unable to help himself, and she doesn't stop him. She merely sits there, waiting him out patiently, quietly giving him permission to prod and poke in the most private corners of her life.

His hand tentatively reaches out, touches the frames of the pictures that carry his face. He recognizes all of their settings, could immediately arrange them in a timeline of his time with Hanna. There are pictures from the first few months of their dating, and then some from the masquerade ball, as silly picture from the hospital, one of them in their Halloween costume. And finally, a picture they had taken, just a week before she had 'died' in the park. He can't think too much about the meaning behind that, his knees already weak as he slowly takes her copy of the picture from the shelf, his fingers tingling

He puts the picture carefully back, takes out the next one, and studies the details in that one as well before it hits him. Fifteen minutes and two suitcases. And she took his pictures. His heart skips a beat, fluttering excitedly in his chest.

His fingers lovingly caress the cover of the frame in his hands, while his mind tries to digest, to comprehend, the meaning behind the gesture. Because it's huge. She could have taken anything – anything – from her house: clothes, books, photos, CDs, DVDs, favorite decorative objects…anything she wanted to save, because her place was going to be torn apart. Yet out of all of it, she took his pictures.

His hands shake, tears filling his eyes. He turns and looks at her, really looks at her for the very first time since she came back. She is sitting there, quiet and gorgeous as ever, calmly regarding him. She knows he must have made the connection, how much his pictures meant to her in order for her to take them with her. Her own eyes swim with unshed tears.

"I couldn't leave them there to be destroyed. I was about to lose these too, along with you, and I just couldn't…" Her voice is breaking, a tear sliding down her cheek. "You took such care framing those pictures for me, each and every one of them, and I love those pictures, Caleb, I love-"

She stops mid-sentence, her eyes falling to the duvet once again and he is glad. He's just not ready to hear it again, those wonderful, special words. He nods, rather pathetically, unable to speak at the moment. He returns the frame to its rightful place, caressing the corner one more time, ready to face her again, when something else catches his eye.

On top of the rest of the pictures lays another couple of sheets. Curiosity gets the better of him and he takes it down, knowing now that he's got her permission to touch and look at whatever he wants in her own personal world.

He turns the sheets over in his hands, his breath catching in his lungs at the sight of the slightly yellow paper. He immediately knows which copy this is, Ashley has already told him that much. Still, he runs his fingers over the front, reverently, remembers how unwilling he was to let this particular paper leave his hands. After a moment, he unfolds the paper, his fingers trembling

His words come into focus, blurring momentarily as he remembers the short-lived joy which writing this letterhad given him. The feeling of how he would have given anything to have her back then, in any shape or form. And he has her, whole and living, soft and compliant, maybe a little quieter than he remembers her, more contemplative, maybe even a little broken, but willing and offering and giving more of herself to him than he could ever have dared to wish for.

He's so lost in his thoughts he doesn't hear her get up from the bed, misses the sight of her in his peripheral vision as she comes closer because he's still so lost in the memory, in the letter, in what he wanted so badly then, what he can have now, if he only lets himself have it.

"I cannot believe you wrote a letter," she whispers quietly at his ear, snapping him suddenly back to reality. She's standing behind him, her hands at his sides, steadying herself against him as she peeks over his shoulder, looking at the letter along with him, eyes wistful. It takes him a moment to adjust to the overwhelming nearness of her, to actually hear and understand what she's talking about, the letter, the content, them.

"I couldn't just let you go," he offers back softly, the meaning behind his statement so loaded that it causes her to sway slightly, gripping his sides tighter as she buries her face into his shoulder from behind. When he doesn't protest, Hanna lets her hands sneak around his waist, bringing him into a full embrace, her hands connecting over his pumping heart.

"I am so sorry, Caleb," she whispers and she sounds broken, and hurt, and all those things he feels as well. He grips the book with only one hand, the other coming to cover both of her smaller ones at his ribcage.

"I know you are," he replies softly, and he means it. It's as much a statement as an absolution.

A loud sob escapes her throat, wrenches her frame, still so thin and small against his back. Her arms however, are more than strong enough, squeezing and bringing him even closer in a vice-like grip. She's hanging on to him as she cries and Caleb cannot stand to have his back to her a moment longer. He quickly lays the book on the table and turns in her embrace, barely able to do so thanks to her strong grip on him, cradling her to his body in a warm hug. Her head falls to his shoulder, just underneath his chin, her hair tickling his nose as he buries his face against the top of her head, inhaling her scent as she weeps quietly.

Her smell is slightly different now, she must be using a different kind of shampoo or lotion, he's not sure, but underneath the layers of artificial products, it's all Hanna Marin and his heart flutters in his chest with guarded joy, because it's really her, it's really Hanna, alive and breathing, currently pressed against his body like her life depends on it. It's maybe the first moment he really, really realizes and accepts that she is back.

The tight knot of ice in the pit of his stomach fragments, the steady heat he feels unfurling inside his chest melting the remaining pieces into nothingness. He's got her back.

They stand there for quite awhile as he lets her cry. He's never seen her cry like this, never seen her clutch at anything or anybody so desperately, not even when he was shot. But something tells him she needs it, this release, more than she needs anything else, more than her next breath, so he lets her, stands there, offers his comfort despite the deep, ever-present ache which continues to press against his own chest. There's still a long way to go. But maybe someday, maybe soon, there will come a time when everything won't feel so hard, so bittersweet, when every joyful emotion isn't layered over by three different painful ones.

It takes some time for her to calm down and even then, she keeps hugging him as he runs his hands over her back repeatedly, his cheek still firmly pressed against the top of her head. He rocks them, back and forth, as if they were dancing, and it seems to soothe her.

She disentangles at last, though won't let go of him completely. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she looks more relaxed and less on edge, a little drowsy even.

His thoughts go back to what Hanna told him, that yesterday was the anniversary of her supposed death. And today she met with her therapist and now him. It must have been a lot for her.

She's looking at him now, that open, shiny expression stealing across her features, so familiar and yet so strange. It's like all those months ago, during that single, wonderful night. Her hands creep slowly upwards and he holds his breath as they come to cradle his face, pulling him ever closer, bringing them together.

He sees it in her face, in her look, her actions; she is slowly preparing them both for a kiss. And with a crushing heart, he finds that he can't. God, he can't, at least not yet.

He seizes her hands in his, pulls them slowly down from his face, takes a step away from her. The devastation in her eyes is nearly too much, but he can't do otherwise. It's not meant as a punishment and it's not retribution either. If he could he would, he really would, but it's just too much. Too much and too soon, and he needs time. To heal. Because despite the fact that she is alive and her death's been all but a pretense, he still feels a very real pain, he's still broken, and he can't let himself get lost in her like that. It's not fair, it's not right. And they need to do this right, once and for all.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and knows immediately it was the wrong thing to say, because she stumbles back, jerks away from him as if stung. She considers it a rejection.

"No Hanna, I didn't mean-" His hand shoots up as if to seize her only to fall back to his side limply again. "I just need time," he rasps. "Please give me time to adjust to all of this," he pleads, his eyes on her, willing her to understand.

She looks at him for a long moment then finally nods. She understands, even if only just to a certain degree, but she does. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

They each take a couple of steps back, trying to find their footing again, both trying to act as normally as possible. He picks the letteragain, starts leafing through the pages just so he has something to do. And that's when he notices the note.

He narrows his eyes, squints at her small, untidy handwriting. There, over the letter and in her small handwriting are the words: I wish I'd told you to come with me. His light smile dies away at once and his chest swells, heart skipping a beat.

This is as close to getting into Hanna Marin's mind, into her heart, as he could ever dream to get. He holds the lette like a sacred object now, sending a careful look at her. She is standing a couple of feet away from him, quietly observing him as he reads through her confessions, completely at ease with that fact. Well, maybe not completely at ease, but still, okay enough. It's unbelievable, how much she seems to have changed.

"I was scared," she offers as a means of explaining the note, but he doesn't need an explanation. Not for this. His heart breaks for her a little at her confession, though. He looks back at the letter, this one simple object suddenly becoming the most important thing in his universe.

This is all he's ever wished to have of her, have with her, this level of openness and trust. And it thrills him just as much as it hurts him that it had to come to them like this, after both of them experienced so much trauma, separately, alone. For the millionth time, Caleb wishes things could have been different for them. Simpler.

"Thank you," he says in return, cradling the letter to his chest. He looks back at her, standing there, just a couple feet away from him, still lonely, a painfully palpable, gaping hole between the two of them. He catches it then, that spark of uncertainty in her eye, the fear that despite everything she is doing, despite everything she's offering, it won't be enough. And he feels like he needs to take some of that anguish away from her, like he owes her at least this much.

"I…I'd really like to see you again," he tells her somewhat clumsily. "Sometime soon," he adds hastily. "For lunch, or for coffee."

He is not disappointed at her answering reaction, a beautiful smile spreading across her face at his words. "I'd really like that," she replies and he can see she's barely able to contain her delight. It has a mutual effect on him. But he needs to be sure she understands, really understands.

"As friends," he tells her and some of that joy in her eyes falls away, but she keeps a hold of her smile, oh so tender. The message couldn't have been clearer; she's okay with being just friends. Oh, Hanna. He feels the sudden need to clarify.

"For now," he blurts out, and the sparkle igniting in her eyes after his words reach her steals his breath away. That's the real Hanna Marin, right there.

"For now," she agrees, lowering her eyes and hiding them behind her long lashes, nodding her head seriously despite the happy smile growing on her face. She looks so lovely right now, so, so lovely, Caleb thinks.

"I need time," he says, a sudden warning in his tone. It won't be tomorrow, or in a week either. He still hurts, is still damaged and broken. There is a long way ahead for him, for the both of them. But he's given her a 'maybe', and that seems to make all the difference right now as she nods her head enthusiastically in understanding.

And he suddenly wishes it could be then already.

"It's late. I should go," he says after a beat and sees disappointment flash across her face before she has the time to school her expression.

"Of course," she says. They walk down the stairs together, her leading again, him wincing at each impossible creak of the stairs.

"Jesus, this is horrible! There's no way you could ever secretly sneak a guy into your room under your mother's nose with these stairs, is there?" Caleb says when they're halfway down, scowling at the offending stairs. He's forgotten the noise they make. He hears her laugh rather cheerfully at that.

"Why Caleb, are you offering to try? I have to warn you, my mom knows how to kill."

"She did earlier and that never held me back," he replies cheekily, grinning at her answering scoff.

"Touché."

There it is, that banter he so loved and misses terribly. It makes him halt his steps and stare at her in amazement. She throws him a knowing look over her shoulder, raises her eyebrows at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"You coming, Caleb?" she asks, and with those three, heart-stoppingly familiar words, his world begins to move again, slowly and carefully, until it finally feels right once more.

He gives a breathless huff then hurries down the stairs right after her. He calls his goodbyes to Ashley, his voice cheery enough to let the woman know not to make an appearance at the door, just call her goodbyes back at him through the house. Hanna grins at that and he turns to her, returning that memorable, knowing smirk of hers. He missed her, oh how he missed her.

Her face grows tender. "I missed you, too," she says solemnly, and damn, did he just say that out loud?

The door is opened already, his coat securely buttoned up his chest, chilly air slowly creeping inside the house, but they just stand there, both clearly unwilling to part.

"Coffee Friday afternoon?" asks Caleb, his voice hopeful. It's Wednesday and so it will only be two days. Two days is good, it shows eagerness but doesn't come off as too clingy. It's the right thing to say, if her radiant smile is anything to go by.

"Four p.m., our usual place?" she asks and he nods vigorously. He looks her up and down, taking in her slightly shivering frame, how she tries to pull her woolly shawl tighter around her shoulders to protect herself from the cold.

He closes the gap between them on instinct, grabs the sides of the shawl, pulling it closer and tighter around her as he kisses her cheek. "Try to buy some winter clothes and boots before then, will you?" he offers. "I don't want you to catch cold," he adds, half-joking, half-serious.

She huffs an amused breath, but her cheeks are rosy when he withdraws, whether from his kiss, his words or the chilly air outside. He'll probably never know.

"Night, Caleb," she says softly, tenderness shining in her eyes.

"Until Friday, Hanna," he replies, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth when he sees her eyes widen with surprise and recognition. He sends her a wink, turns around and leaves.

Despite the darkness of the night, Caleb feels like his world's never looked more bright.

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_"There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful."_

_― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

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**A/N: TFiOS/OTH love! Please review! Reviews are like sleep after a crappy day. So lovely :) And let's be clear, my entire MONTH has been crappy. **

**Okay, so I still need to know that you guys are out there! 20 & an update!**

**XOXO  
Bagilia.**


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